Of Synths, Two-Headed Bears, and Huntsmen
by Geralt of Riften
Summary: Three legendary Wastelanders are sent to paradise. A Courier under the flag of a nation. A Survivor who has united the Commonwealth under the banner of technology. A Wanderer with nothing but tragedies weighing on his back. Remnant's future will be shaped by these three, whether for ill or good.
1. Chapter 1: Begin Again

**Chapter 1: Begin Again**

 **Author's note: All intellectual properties used in this fanfic do not in any way belong to me.**

 **Hey, people reading this. Hope you enjoy the story. Don't really have an editor and I'm enjoying my vacation here at the state of the Great Bear. Happy trails everyone!**

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In the Mojave, the Courier had been called many titles, many pleasant, some amusing, and some cruel. The Grim Fucking Reaper, The Devil in Black, Slayer of the Bull, Champion of the Bear, and Lord of the Divide were a few of the names the Courier had remembered as he walked through the scorching sun of the Mojave Wasteland.

The Courier shook his head and continued walking. The scorching heat of the Mojave was of no consequence to the Courier as he passed by the ruined salvages of Pre-War vehicles and the occasional corpse along the highway of the I-15.

He was briefly about to be stopped by an NCR trooper who came rushing towards him, probably to stop him for a mandatory "patrol toll". The trooper looked to be dressed in a khaki tunic with bellowed hip pockets and khaki breeches, worn with a desert facewrap and hardened leather pauldrons, black leather fingerless gloves, arm wraps, brown boots and khaki puttees, the official armor of the military. The trooper gave him a cursory glance and the Courier bit back a chuckle as the fool's eyes widened, as he realized that he was planning to rob one of the most influential allies the Republic had made. He turned tail and ran, probably back to his patrol unit or a checkpoint.

These occurrences were a nuisance but it beat all the alternatives. Although he knew Legion was good at keeping their supply lines secure, he had witnessed it firsthand in his travels back in Arizona; that was only a silver lining to allowing slavers, rapists, and marauders to pillage the Mojave. Caesar's Legion was nothing but an amalgamation of mankind's most sickening qualities all tied together in a nice little package. Ignorance, backwardness, sexism, slavery, and on occasion: blatant hypocrisy. Six knew he wasn't a good man, in this hell managing something like your Karma was a pipe dream. But Legion was nothing but a step back to the more savage past of mankind, far beyond the glittering past and poison of the Old World.

Which led him to turn his thoughts towards the enigmatic Robert Edwin House. The former Overseer of the Las Vegas Strip. House had his way with words, trying to win the Courier's loyalty by pointing out the fact that Victor had saved him, therefore causing the Courier to be ensnared in gratitude. Never mind that he was the one who had set all of those conditions which had led the Courier to be shot in the head by a narcissistic Casino owner. Six freely admitted that the man was a visionary, they were still finding schematics and unbelievable technology within the Lucky 38. Yet despite for all of his planning, all of his genius, he forgot about the people around him and disregarded his own humanity. If he was to make the same mistake as the Old World did by not caring about its citizens, viewing them only as a resource, then it did not paint a great picture for the supposed-to-be autocrat of New Vegas.

The Courier was a sight to behold as he trudged along. He wore a duster with the emblem of the NCR's two-headed bear etched onto it. His raven black bedraggled hair was covered by a hat that he had received from Daniel in Zion. The sleeveless duster exposed his rather large muscles which were enhanced by the cybernetics of the Big Mountain. His scarlet eyes were a strange sight to see even in the wastes, but such was the effect when both of said eyes were nothing more than cybernetics. His features were sharp and had a rough-like characteristic to them. His mouth was surrounded by stubble, a reminder of his stolen youth.

He grimaced as his hands quivered. He was never really the same after the battle. A battle which had made its mark throughout the wastes. The sounds of howitzers, vertibirds, and gunshots were still very fresh on his mind. Every faction that had joined the battle was changed.

The Great Khans started to make their own empire by Wyoming, providing a nice barrier to the NCR's imperialistic goals though he suspected change would come in due time. His own companions had left, hoping to weather the uncertain future that laid before all of them. The Boomers began to peer into the wastes. The Three Families looked to him as a de-facto House. Or in the Omerta's words "Mr. Sometimes-At-Home."

Few Factions exhibited change greater than the two Wasteland superpowers that vied for control over Hoover Dam. The Legion tore itself apart like a wild animal in the East. Lanius, although being a brutal and intimidating man and not to mention the direct successor of Caesar in the Legion's line of succession, did not have the same cult of personality as Caesar. The Frumetarii, one of the Legion's most effective weapons, was disbanded under his orders. Not only did the Legion's overall effectiveness decrease but also caused many of the Legion's officers in Arizona to question Lanius's leadership, a few even deemed him unfit to lead. Rangers were sent to assess the situation and to assist the escape of slaves.

The NCR exhibited political change, albeit temporarily. The Courier had convinced Chief Hanlon to run for office, as rumors spread that Kimball's administration would expand deeper into Legion territory, something the NCR couldn't afford to do, being an overextended, and corrupt bureaucracy. The Chief took the first step by bringing evidence of General Oliver's incompetence and the circumstances surrounding his position during his presidential campaign.

'God Bless America' He thought sarcastically when he remembered crowds of troopers and citizens alike cheer for Hanlon during one of his fiery speeches about Oliver being a "no-good gimp for a corrupted snake".

The latest news he heard about Oliver was him offing himself after his career was ruined. Kimball was the next to off himself after dear old General 'Wait and See'. His office filled with evidence of bribes from numerous Brahmin barons, causing a massive uproar among the general populace and colossal support for the Chief. Hanlon had extensive knowledge of the problem's plaguing the NCR military and the problem with the Senate. Six knew this was a short-term solution but Hanlon would be a positive change for the "Manifest California" attitude that the West was beginning to take.

Riots still occurred in territories back West. He smirked as he remembered some troopers join in the fun. When the fires would subside, the NCR would change. If not however, then it seemed as though an Independent Vegas would have to be necessary. The Securitrons and Yes Man were still there. The numerous lobotomites and robots from the Big MT were there to back him up. It was never his intention to join the foolish battle over that damned dam. He didn't even plan on entrenching himself this far in. Yet circumstances lead him to his current situation.

Materializing his Ranger Sequoia, he kept an eye out for any danger. Although the Brotherhood and NCR troops performed an amazing job at defending the highway after their peace treaty with the NCR, threats such as Night Stalkers, and Cazadores were still an unavoidable part of the highway.

The Courier had contemplated visiting Ulysses at the Divide. He had felt guilty over the fate of the community there although he knew that it was an accident, it was still an accident that destroyed an entire community with nuclear hellfire. He decided otherwise. Most of the time, Ulysses was too busy clearing out nests of Tunnelers with the help of explosives and military equipment.

The Courier then proceeded to withdraw the Big Mountain Transportalponder. Perhaps the Think Tank had some request for him. He activated the device causing his molecules to literally teleport right in front of the geniuses of the Think Tank.

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"AH, THE CEO RETURNS FROM THE OUTSIDE WORLD. HOW GOES OUR LITTLE ADVENTURES?" Dr. Klein commented sarcastically before being shushed by Borous who mentioned something about the "lobotomite having a GUN" and something about "Horrifically maiming us".

The Courier merely shook his head at the Think Tank's antics having long been accustomed to their bizarre and eccentric nature. The Courier had resigned himself to working for the scientists of the Think Tank to making the wasteland a better place.

He assisted them in bringing back forgotten agricultural methods, alternate sources of renewable energy, advanced medical technologies, and even horses, but due to the Borous's insistence, the horses were photosynthetic. He chuckled as he remembered Hsu's face as he led a group of green horses to the gates of McCarran.

"AH YES, BEFORE WE FORGET" Klein had suddenly said. "WE SEEM TO HAVE DEVELOPED A NEW TELEPORTATION DEVICE. IF YOU PLAN ON USING THOSE PENISES OF YOURS, THEN I SUGGEST YOU GET WHATEVER THAT LOATHSOME BODY OF YOURS NEEDS. WE BASED THIS OFF RESEARCH REPORTS HANDED TO US BY THOSE FOOLS AT MASSACHUSETTS… I MEAN, CREATED WITH MY OWN INGENUITY!" Klein finished as the Courier saw him gesture to a white version of his Transportalponder.

The Courier nodded, it didn't hurt to prepare. Heading off to the Sink, he passed by the automated personalities who greeted him from "Salutations sir, I trust the good sir might like some refreshments before heading off to the great unknown" to the lines of "BURN IN DESPAIR" by a megalomaniac toaster.

The Courier had made the Sink his full time safehouse. The Lucky 38 was still his building but only House knew the extent of the technology placed in there. He had left Yes Man in the mainframe to research House's remaining aces; the man was a genius after all.

Entering his dim bedroom, the Courier grinned as he watched the room light up. The Elite Riot Gear stood at the center surrounded by a force-field. The Courier had vastly improved upon it by adding several layers of highly flexible Saturnite armored plates, which combined with the highly flexible synthetic material, allowed for less recoil and more flexibility in combat. The chest plate had featured plenty of bandoliers and gun holsters for his small arms which he ignored in favor of the Pip-Boy.

He had worked in conjunction with the numerous AI's of the mountain to install an armory in the Sink. With Dr. Mobius's help however, it soon became apparent that the Courier would get more than what he bargained for. He vaguely remembered a group of lobotomites dressed in construction gear hammering the walls of his room.

When the Courier was done with the whole fiasco and did it himself, he was more than satisfied with the results. Rows of armor stasis for his apparel were lined up. Display cases to put his battle trophies. Gun racks dotted the metallic walls of the entire room. Suffice to say, the Courier was more than happy.

He also grinned as he saw much of his weaponry proudly hung on the walls of the place also surrounded by force-fields. He withdrew his sonic emitter and retrieved his most powerful weaponry.

He also retrieved his "Katana of the West" which was proudly hung over Vulpes's vexillarius helmet which lied in the trophy section of his room.

The irony of the name wasn't lost to the Courier but after the Legion's retreat, Lanius, had given the Courier his legendary blade of the east citing "Caesar's death has ushered in a new era for the legion, and thus my weapon will need to be a new symbol that will rally the East".

He had paid a large amount of caps for the Gun Runners to make a new weapon out of it along with the metal he had retrieved from the Divide and with a little self-modification; the result: a beautiful Obsidian black Katana with a red grip and sheathed with a traditional Japanese _saya_ , a sheath made of lightweight wood.

Disabling the forcefield with a sonic emitter and retrieving his Elite Riot Gear, the Courier went back to the Think Tank.

"ALRIGHT, AFTER MOVING A SAFE DISTANCE FROM YOU, MY COLLEAGUES AND I WILL BE SAFE FROM WHATEVER HAPPENS TO YOU", Klein finished.

Nodding the Courier stepped back for a few steps before materializing the new Transportalponder. And with one pull of a trigger disaster struck. A blinding blue light enveloped the power of the Big MT facilities began to fluctuate, lightning from the consoles and terminals surrounding the room sparked. The brains couldn't see what was happening to their CEO as they themselves struggled to keep themselves upright as the Dome shook to its foundations.

After the dust had settled, The Courier was nowhere to be found. A black circular scorch mark surrounded the spot he tested the device. The Think Tank was confused. That never happened in any of their teleportation research.

"The teddy bear disappeared!" Dala said worriedly, her monitors looking frantically all over the room.

"Not to worry! I think we can find him by giving him more of those useless bottle caps!" Dr. 0 mentioned.

"Here lobotomite! We have a GUN for you!" Borous said as he floated around opening the doors that led to their research labs.

" [*...] ... [*...] ..? [*...*] ( I believe that will not be enough to attract his attention. Perhaps if I were to sonjaculate into his weapons…)." Dr. 8 said

"NO 8. HE'S PROBABLY HAD ENOUGH OF YOU CREAMING INTO HIS WEAPONS" Dr. Klein commented.

"Doctors. I think we may have a problem." Dr. 0 said as silence descended upon the once vibrant room. Before a certain ex-brotherhood scribe took the elevator leading to the research lab of the Think Tank wondering what in the hell did Six get himself into this time.

* * *

The Courier awoke to a pleasant breeze. Flat on his back he saw the sunny blue skies, a parallel to the crimson hue of the Colorado. He saw that the prototype of the new Transportalponder had turn into a pile of burnt out electronics gripped in his hands.

"Great. Just fucking great, this is going to be like that war in Zion again isn't it?" The Courier muttered before dematerializing the broken down device. Standing up and dusting off the imaginary specks of dirt in his armor, the Courier surveyed his surroundings.

Trees were present around the area, swaying gently in the cool breeze. Actual living grass graced his feet compared to the sickly brown of the plants in the Mojave. The Courier swore he saw what looked to be a squirrel run away, the beauty of Zion could not compare to the emerald sea in front of him.

The Courier took off his helmet and took in the clean air. It was devoid of the ever present smell of blood, lasers, gunpowder, and rust that were so common in the wastes. But he knew better than to leave his head unguarded, as he gently clasped the helmet back on.

Bringing up the familiar screen of his Pip-boy, the Courier went straight to data. Choosing the map option caused his screen to bring up the words *ERROR, DATA INSUFFICIENT. CONNECT NOW TO YOUR NEAREST ROB-CO FACILITLY*.

The Courier cursed and did a quick inventory check which proved to be unneeded as the Pip-boy did not suffer any catastrophic damage to its interior workings. He materialized his prized "Medicine Stick", a brush gun with enough firepower to make even a Gun Runner whistle in appreciation. Just then he heard a snarl.

A creature with fur as black as the midnight Mojave sky, standing with its legs and glaring at the Courier with red crimson eyes, it reminded the Courier of the stories of the old world. About werewolves, men that turned into bipedal wolf-like creatures with an insatiable thirst for blood.

The Courier had dubbed the thing "Fenrir" after the famous Nordic creature as he saw the sharp white claws present in its long legs and arms. Bone-like spikes covered many sections of its body and a bone-like mask covered its face.

'This was going to be a tough fight' The Courier thought.

As the Fenrir was about to pounce, its face was met with a .45 caliber bullet. The Courier grimaced as he saw a chunk of its face was torn off. The creature giving an audible *thump* as its body fell. The body then slowly dissipated into a black mist, something which got the Courier's interest.

"Weak," The Courier said after the anti-climactic duel. The Courier dematerialized his Medicine Stick. The Courier had made a mental note to call those things "Discount Deathclaws" as compared to their counterparts back in the Wastes, they were easy prey.

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Glynda Goodwitch radiated an aura of unbridled rage. The click of her high heels and her furious emerald eyes were more than enough to send the students of Beacon unfortunate enough to cross her path to run away as if they were the subjects of the professor's anger.

'This had better be important' the professor thought. Ozpin had requested for her presence, right after she had received several complaints about the behavior of the team leader of Team CRDL. She had also needed to file more paperwork about all the student transferees, including one Jaune Arc as his combat grades were a complete joke compared to the paperwork she had seen boasting about his "unparalleled combat skill".

As the elevator's ascent stopped she approached the headmaster with a scowl. Her anger dissolved when she saw the headmaster's normally stoic face marred with a hint of worry.

"How are you today professor?" he asked nonchalantly but the tiredness in his voice betrayed his state of wellbeing.

"Professor?" Goodwitch asked concern lacing her voice.

Ozpin sighed and looked at the balcony in his office. The windows providing a perfect birds-eye view of the academy.

"Are you aware of the news in Atlas, professor?" Ozpin asked while giving the professor a serious glance.

Professor Goodwitch shook her head, curious and worried as to what would trouble the normally calm headmaster so much.

"In Atlas, they detected a surge of energy near the city of Mantle, at least two weeks ago. Just a few days after that, Grimm infestations around the place had begun to fluctuate. Not long after that the Atlesian military had suddenly focused to laser technology and have made remarkable improvements. One might say that in a few months hand-held laser technology might be commonplace. As of now, the same energy reading was detected in the emerald forest". Ozpin informed Glynda seriously.

"It's only a matter of time before the General sends his specialists here and the enemy might also make a move. I trust you know what to do?" Ozpin finished and handed Glynda a scroll detailing where the Courier had made his grand entrance to the world.

Sighing, the professor gave Ozpin a curt nod and headed to the Bullhead hangers.

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"You think you can take me?!" The Courier shouted as packs of those discount deathclaws surrounded him. He had somehow ended up in a place that looked like a tribal religious site dedicated to worshipping chess pieces. Soon enough he was surrounded by many of the Discount Deathclaws.

One of the discount deathclaws tried to swipe his hand off, only to have it torn clean off by Dinner Bell, a Hunting Shotgun received from The Thorn. It fell to the ground turning into smoke. The Courier then shot the heads of at least four of those discount deathclaws before dematerializing Dinner Bell and settled for A Light Shining in Darkness instead.

The amber light of the dematerialization blinded the pack, long enough for the Courier to shoot one of the things in the eye. The pack slowly backed away, the human held a lethality far above the others who dared enter the Emerald Forest. The alpha then emerged from the pack, fangs primed to kill.

The alpha was big and its head and chest was covered in thick boney plates. The Courier quickly shot at it the straight at the thing's eye but missed and ended up shooting the thing's bone covered forehead.

The thing howled furiously and grabbed the Courier. The Courier struggled but the Discount Deathclaw Alpha threw him towards a tree. Easily standing up and the pistol still in hand, the Courier kept shooting at the Alpha but it was faster than he expected and was drawing closer until he shot at the legs. The alpha tripped and The Courier moved towards the injured animal.

He had forgotten about the other Discount Deathclaws which proved to be a mistake as one of them had pounced on him, knocking both of them down to the ground. The thing stood above the Courier and tried to devour him but the Courier merely shot it at its mouth, causing it to fall right next to him and disappear.

The remaining Discount Deathclaws were circling around their alpha, guarding it. The Courier chucked as he materialized a frag grenade and with the release of a pin and a well-aimed arc, the pack was obliterated by an explosion.

He sighed and dematerialized his weapons and proceeded to keep walking. Picking a random direction, the Courier walked. 'Lady Luck always shines on me' The Courier thought as he looked back at the blasted circle where the Discount Deathclaws used to stand.

The Courier then heard a ferocious roar behind him. Another creature stood by the trees. It was a gorilla that towered over him. Its black skin was covered in scars. Its chest was covered by the same bone like armor protecting the Discount Deathclaws, with a few chinks and cracks that showed it had killed its fair share of humans. The thing was more muscular than a Legion Centurion.

'Well fuck you too Lady,' was the one thought the Courier made before going into combat mode.

It uprooted a tree to the Courier's dismay and hurled it towards the Courier. The Courier was quick to act as he rolled away from the dangerous projectile. Standing up, the Courier materialized an Assault carbine and took a few shots at the gorilla. The bullets ripped past its armor and caused the gorilla to frenzy.

Its howls of pain seemed to attract other creatures as the Courier heard more and more howls coming from the forest.

The gorilla ran towards the Courier, shrugging off the 5.56 mm hollow points that decimated its interior organs. It smashed into the Courier knocking him towards a tree and caused him to inject a bit of med-ex into his body. He felt the drug kick in and the pain began to dissipate.

The Courier smirked as he dematerialized his Assault Carbine and went for his trustworthy Katana. He did behead Caesar's greatest frumentarii with it after all.

The gorilla looked at the Katana and into the dark red glare of the Courier's riot helmet and with a roar that seemed to challenge the Courier, he rushed again. The Courier waited as the Gorilla drew nearer.

The gorilla was about to knock the Courier into another tree but the Courier with speed and strength combined, slashed at the gorilla's exposed neck. The gorilla grabbed the blade, the sharp metal digging into its palm but it did not expect the barrel of the Courier's Ranger Sequoia to be facing him as he looked at the dangerous human.

The Courier fired and the gorilla fell. To the Courier's surprise, the gorilla was still pitifully clinging onto life. He gave the gorilla a swift beheading as other creatures emerged from the forest, intent on challenging him. Discount Deathclaws were abundant, but the Courier noticed several bears with the same black fur and armor as its wolf counterparts.

Several of the bears had approached him, not at all concerned about their dead comrade. The Courier counted at least three of them. One of the smaller ones swiped at him with its powerful claws but the Courier simply gave a powerful one-handed stab to the creature's unarmored side. The bear wailed as another bear stood up to attack the Courier, leaving his unarmored belly open.

With a quick blast to the stomach from the Courier's ivory black Sequoia, the bear promptly fell and disappeared into a black mist. The Courier grabbed his katana from the bear's side and promptly decapitated it. The third bear was huge. It easily towered over the gorilla that the Courier had slain earlier, and more scars were proof of its combat prowess.

Boney-spikes protruded out of its black fur, almost encasing it, and it threw an icy glare that could strike fear even to the most savage Centurion towards the Courier. Not backing down, the Courier merely stared at it. The bear let out a guttural growl before slowly moving away from the mailman.

The Courier merely stared at its retreating form before dematerializing his weapons. The Wasteland was a far crueler place than this, the Courier thought with a smirk. He brought up his pip-boy and played some music. He grinned as he remembered getting the music holotapes from House's penthouse.

His face lit up as "Jingle Jangle Jingle" started playing. The day was still bright, the sky was blue, and the sun was shining, and directly above him was a huge ass bird.

The bird's feathers were black; a recurring design that the Courier was getting tired of. The Courier materialized his fully modded Red Glare and with one press of a trigger, a torrent of righteous old-world wrath went straight for the bird of the night. The rockets tore through the skies and hit the bird with a satisfying *bang*.

The bird fell like Icarus, slowly disappearing into smoke as the remaining rockets blew up like a symbol of the glory that was the Old World. The Courier stowed away all of his weapons safely back to the Pip-Boy and sat down humming out of tune to the beat of the song.

The Courier observed that the creatures were bidding their time, nightfall was fast approaching and with no knowledge of the area around him, he was promptly fucked. Miraculously he heard the sound of an aircraft fast approaching. He turned off the music and materializing his favored Holorifle, he kept his guard up. Time would tell if he was in the presence of friends or enemies.

The aircraft resembled the Vertibirds he had seen throughout California. Contrary to the sickly green the Vertibirds were normally painted with. The aircraft was a dull grey slowly landing in the clearing in front of the Courier. As the doors opened, the Courier dematerialized the Holorifle.

Beautiful. That was the one word that ran through the Courier's head as a woman emerged from the aircraft. Her skin was porcelain white, her hair a beautiful blonde tied to a bun but a curl accentuated at the right side of her face. Hey eyes were a bright green, framed by glasses. She wore a white top which exposed her generous chest, which the Courier tried not to take advantage of. She also wore a black skirt and had a purple cape attached to her back.

The woman held a black riding crop. Her eyes were narrowed; she looked to be examining the Courier. The Courier materialized his Katana and Ranger Sequoia. Experience had shown that you could never be too careful around the Wastes. The woman seemed surprised at the materialization, as she brought the riding crop up defensively.

The Courier raised an eyebrow. 'What the fuck can a riding crop do against one of the most technologically advanced armor in the Mojave Wasteland' The Courier thought dryly. The woman then glowed a bright purple and proceeded to lift up a tree with some sort of aura, with only a flick from her riding crop.

'Well shit. I never get a break do I?' as the Courier readied his weapons.

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 **A.N: So yeah. Constructive Criticism is very welcome! First fic right here, so go easy guys.**


	2. Chapter 2: Three's a Crowd

**Chapter Two: Three's a Crowd**

 **A.N: Hey guys! Thanks for the feedback! Most reviews are welcome, and I'm still up for constructive criticism. Time to get this show rolling, Ring-A-Ding Baby! Also. I will be changing some stuff including the timeline.**

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 **All Intellectual Properties used in this fanfiction do not belong to me.**

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In the clean white conference room of the Institute stood a woman. She watched silently from the windows, content with watching the numerous scientists go about their rounds and research at the atrium.

Her cold blue eyes seemed devoid of emotion as she pressed a few buttons on her wrist-mounted Personal Information Processor, better known as a "Pip-Boy". A familiar blue flash shined and a fresh cigar materialized in her hand.

Nora Jensen, the Sole Survivor of Vault 111, the general of the Minutemen, the Directress of the Institute, and depending on who you ask the "Judas" of the Commonwealth slowly lit the Cigar and took a long drag.

She had fair white skin. A rarity when the entire world is a blasted hellhole. Her hair was a light brown, which was accentuated by her bangs. Her face could be described as beautiful to most, with delicate features that made her look like a pre-war starlet or model. She wasn't muscular, she relied on words to get her through most situations but her body was well trained and exercised.

She wore the dark brown battlecoat of the late Elder Maxon. She made a small "tsk" as she remembered the massacre of the Prydwen and the Boston airport. It took her months of hard work and a lot of waste of the resources of the Institute but once she obtained Maxon's and by extension the Brotherhood's trust; she pounced on the opportunity. She stole every single technical document that the Scavengers of the Brotherhood of Steel had scavenged. The amount of people she had framed was either exiled or dead.

Liberty Prime was a fine robot, it was a shame she couldn't keep it. But the thought of having a huge robot like Prime was tempting, so she ordered her scientists to rebuild once more. The wreckage of the Prydwen and the Boston Airport provided her with more than enough firepower to arm her Minutemen. It also helped that weapon schematics and factories around Boston were plentiful.

She herself put a high powered Gauss rifle blast through the Elder's head when he went to confront her as she had already sabotaged the electromagnetic field protecting both the Prydwen and the Airport from a full teleportation assault. The Prydwen was a sight to behold as Liberty Prime blew it up.

She enjoyed reminiscing a bit too much.

The Railroad proved no problem. She embedded herself so deep that she was privy to most of its secrets. She knew every safehouse, every informant and when the time came to confront Desdemona, it was easy to convince her that as Directress of the Institute she would grant the Gen-3 synths a shot at normality. In turn she received a network of spies all around the East Coast.

She scoffed as she remembered the Minutemen. They held next to little resources and had no long term goals for the region. Now they served as nothing but her army above ground, a reminder to the people of the Wastes that the "Reformed Commonwealth of New America" was slowly but surely beginning. What kind of idiots give leadership to a person they just met?

The settlements that wouldn't support her new government were a sizable minority. She answered disobedience harshly. The Operators from Nuka World were the ones that survived. She eliminated the Pack and the Disciples; they were too bloodthirsty and therefore uncontrollable. They terrorized the minority until all of them went to the palm of her hand. Diamond City was an exception. With her Coursers and Minutemen cleaning up Boston, the city flourished and expanded until surprisingly enough they went willingly to her palm.

There was nobody left to resist her rule in the Commonwealth, the Gunners having long been annihilated, its members either dead or absorbed into her ranks, the Super Mutants were no match for her Coursers , and slavers and common raiders easily fell to her Minutemen. Pockets of Brotherhood resistance popped up but her army was too strong and with the Institute finally making its own plasma weapons, and power armor, it was starting to resemble a true nation. The robot creation facility, she retrieved from the Mechanist easily provided the means to rebuild Liberty Prime, and creating powerful robots.

She ordered a swift "liberation" of Nuka World. It ended up being her most profitable trading settlement yet. She passed her position as Overboss to Porter Gage, who she gave specific instructions to disrupt Brotherhood ops in the southern areas. Her position as the messiah of the Commonwealth was not threatened by "false" accusations and slander. 'Porter made a very remarkable scapegoat' she thought rather fondly. Every assassination, every disappearance, blame the Operators. Raiders became her favorite boogeyman, next to the Brotherhood.

Silently she made her way to her quarters, passing by numerous Coursers and scientists who greeted her with awe and reverence. She internally scowled.

She remembered the first time she entered the Institute. Sure they were friendly enough but her time as directress of the CIA was not without merit. She could tell from the whispers and glances that they did not approve of her. To them she was just another Kellog, a tool they would wipe clean in the future. Still, that was to be expected. She had brought back

Shaun had ended up just as cold and detached as she was. The terseness of their conversations though made Nora suspect something different. There was no evidence that he was in fact, Shaun. But still she helped him achieve the Institute's goals. The Institute was the best shot humanity had at a future. It became apparent that Shaun had believed that replacing the surface dwellers was a smart move because the Gen-3's were much more capable of "bringing back a purer form of humanity." Personally, Nora herself believed that Synths were _capable_ of turning Sentient. Valentine was a prototype, essentially everything he was, was the replication of a Pre-War detective. Curie, Danse, all of them made their own personalities. She even went so far as to skulk around the Institute and discovered that many Synths began to exhibit likes and dislikes, etcetera.

"Thank you nepotism." Nora said with a cruel grin, looking at the section of the newly formed "Institute Defense Agency". Ayo had plans to betray her. He was a loose end, and so he was dealt with swiftly. She easily exiled him on grounds that he was "freeing" synths. She made sure to promote that Liam kid.

In truth, she never wanted to look for Shaun. She smiled bitterly. It was the perfect retirement. An American nuclear family complete with your Mr. Handy and normal suburban neighborhood. 'A soldier and a lawyer, what a perfect love story. Too bad the kid wasn't mine' she thought had opted to settle down, the amount of Chinese families that she had doomed with her reports and the operations she had sanctioned would make any man sick but it was all for her country. Shaun was a child from Nate's earlier marriage. But what would it tell about her skills if she couldn't find one baby?

She noticed that she had made her way to her quarters. Stepping inside and sitting down on the chair by her desk. She looked at the mountain of paperwork that greeted her.

Sighing, she could tell that with the Brotherhood's defeat and with the Railroad's indirect dissolution was more than enough to tip the fragile balance of power. Documents ranging from minor increases in manpower to radical reforms greeted her eyes but also the numerous technical documents she had retrieved from the Prydwen.

The Brotherhood at D.C was likely to come back. The death of their Elder would likely spark some militant response. She scowled. Coursers and Minutemen were good buffers, both of them packing serious firepower left by the Brotherhood and the numerous other factions she had exterminated. But she heard about the Brotherhood's weapons and resources.

Numerous cities built on the fossils of Aircraft Carriers and Nuclear Submarines, a mobile command center, access to many facilities capable of creating Power Armor, and a fucking air base. They were no joke and given enough time, they would come for her and destroy her government.

She frowned. She would need a lifeline if she was to survive this. She looked at one specific folder and her eyebrows widened marginally. Its front was emblazoned by a White Star, the symbol of the U.S army. Gingerly she picked up the folder.

She opened the document and smiled mischievously. 'Looks like my luck isn't running out anytime soon' she thought as her eyes traced over the words on the title of the project.

"Project Remnant?" Nora mouthed all while grinning like a kitten as she read the details.

* * *

 _Three weeks before the Courier's accident and one week after Institute victory._

* * *

Amidst the ruins of a crashed Bullhead was a man huddled over a campfire. Around him was a frozen landscape, similar to Anchorage. He wore a set of special Winterized Combat Armor, made specifically for the Liberation of Anchorage. He struggled to keep the campfire intact as the blizzard grew in intensity.

His emerald eyes were covered by the balaclava and a pair of combat goggles outfitted with bulletproof glass, both protecting his eyes from snow glare. His tan skin was protected from the harsh cold by the ballistic weaved sleeves. His posture showed the spirit of a man long broken by the wastes.

Liam Daniels looked around him and sighed. It seemed just a short while ago before he left the Brotherhood after Sarah's death. He looked at the holotags on his neck and sighed. Maxon was a good leader but after seeing the ruins of Underworld. He couldn't fight for them anymore, he could still recall the screams as Maxon ordered its extinction. It was one of the grounds that the Outcasts wanted in return for rejoining the Brotherhood. The ghouls had retrieved some sort of pre-war tech and wouldn't give it up.

He materialized a sniper rifle, made from the rifles of both Dusk and Colvin after their deaths, saving Maxon from a deathclaw. The familiar green color of the materialization comforted him to some degree. Lyons' Pride had long died off. He was the only survivor. He remembered Gallows. His bloody face as he strangled Shepherd before an overlord crushed his head with a super sledge, Maxon killed the Overlord but not Shepherd. Maxon received all the recognition. Much of the mythos surrounding him was nothing but horseshit. Something that those West Coast fuckers had spread.

The Lone Wanderer had somehow ended up in a frozen wasteland. Daniels struggled to remember how he ended up there in the first place. He remembered touching some sort of strange beacon that had crashed somewhere near the ruins of Megaton. He half expected to get kidnapped by Aliens, but those things weren't real.

All he remembered was a hot white flash before waking up in some sort of Enclave facility. He was tied to a stretcher, bagged and he vaguely remembered something about getting him to a "General Ironwood". They put him into an aircraft which he thought was a Vertibird until he felt it take off.

He remembered hearing a roar. It was similar to the dragons from those entertainment tapes he watched from the Vault. A voice, probably the Pilot shouted "IT'S RELEASING ICE" before the aircraft plummeted. When he awoke, he wore nothing but a simple hospital gown and that the straps on his stretcher were cut loose and the bag on his face was tossed aside. His Pip-boy laid by his arm, and had not been tampered with.

He went to the cockpit right after equipping his winterized armor and his laser pilot was dead. He wore some sort of metallic armor with a blue outline that covered his chest. Along with a helmet that revealed his mouth and a pair of black pants.

Liam had noticed that the man had no noticeable wounds but a bit of blood had started to drool out from his mouth."Brain hemorrhage" Liam said as he took off the man's helmet. He was right. The man's eyes were bleeding and his face was twisted in what seemed to be a terrified expression. If Liam had to guess, the high altitude had caused a brain hemorrhage and a concussion but not before the man had seen something terrifying.

And so the Wanderer had ended up creating a campfire.

Snapping back to reality, the Wanderer went back to burning all the junk from his Pip-Boy.

'Why do I even have three sets of Pre-War outfits?' the Wanderer thought as the fire consumed the grimy pre-war business suits.

The Wanderer knew he couldn't stay there forever. Strangely enough his Pip-Boy refused to show him where the hell he was. So after waiting for a few hours, he packed up and scavenged what he could from the man. 'Survival no matter the cost' was the name of the game, and the Wanderer was a veteran player.

He retrieved what seemed to be a strange handgun from the man and a sword which strangely enough seemed to be able to collapse into a small frame with a press of a button before hoarding those into his Pip-boy.

So with that, the Wanderer took his first journey into the deadly snowstorms of Solitas.

* * *

The Courier looked warily at the woman who just uprooted a tree with a fucking riding crop.

"Aliens." The Courier deadpanned quietly as he attempted to rationalize the purple glow around the woman before shaking his head. He needed to get away from Veronica's ramblings.

"Drop the tree." The Courier said as the woman raised an eyebrow.

Before any of them could react to this strange Mexican stand-off, a blood red portal opened up right between them. A figure emerged wearing a mask made from those bone plates. 'Probably a woman. That or a guy with some really hot legs.' The Courier thought as he saw the mysterious newcomer's attire. The newcomer was facing directly at the confused mailman.

She was wearing a black dress, and held a scabbard with several chambers. The mask prevented the Courier from getting a good look on the woman's face but her hair was long and raven black. The Courier gripped his katana tight, whoever this woman was she didn't seem too friendly.

The woman unsheathed her sword effortlessly and flawlessly. Suddenly, the woman launched herself at the Courier.

Sparks flew as the two blades met. Six found that he had dropped his Sequoia in favor of gripping the Katana with both hands. The woman was strong and fast. Six swore as the woman backed up. She unleashed a power foreswing and the Courier responded with a backswing of his own.

The Courier nearly staggered but kept his ground. Bringing the offensive to his opponent, he narrowly missed the robe of the stranger's skirt as the stranger backed away like a nimble cat.

The Courier raised an eyebrow, she wore no visible armor yet she seemed battle hardened and experienced enough to hold her ground against him. The other woman seemed to be confused at this turn of events and held what looked to be some sort of tablet and started speaking to it.

The Courier swung again. Neither of the two combatants backed down, each parrying or dodging each other's attacks. When the Courier's tenth strike was dealt, the woman stumbled; Six saw an opportunity and let loose a savage slash at the woman's chest.

It connected but a dark red aura protected the woman. Six's eyes widened as he swore he could feel the smugness emanate from his enemy. He attacked in quick succession, not one to let his opponent recover but each time it would be protected by the same aura.

"My turn" the woman gloated. Her attack was swift and merciless. Six felt her blade rip through the chestplate of his armor, tearing a bit of the bulletproof fiber and the Saturnite material as he backed away. He didn't expect the woman to perform a powerful roundhouse kick.

He was knocked down, and his katana was disarmed from him. He felt a blade press his neck. He looked up and he saw the woman's mask staring at him like he was mere prey. Not one to surrender, he materialized Blood-Nap and stabbed the woman's leg as hard as he could.

To his surprise, it worked and the blade passed through. He suspected it was from the earlier blows that he had given. The woman didn't even scream as she brought the sword down on the Courier's neck.

The Courier swiftly grabbed the sword, thankful for the gloves that came with the Elite Riot Gear and tried to withdraw it from his neck. The blade drew a bit of blood but due to his strength, it was not doing any further damage.

His opponent surprisingly took the blade off his neck and made another portal. She took off the knife on her leg and threw it towards the Courier, narrowly missing his head. And with that, the mysterious woman disappeared.

Standing up, the Courier had noticed the other woman was shocked, the tree was nowhere in sight. Whether because of the sudden enemy or the fact that he was alive, he couldn't tell. What mattered was that she didn't bother to help him. So materializing a flash bang and quickly throwing it at the unknown party. He retrieved Blood-Nap, his Ranger Sequoia, and his Katana which had nearly laid forgotten and disappeared into the forest.

He heard the woman shout for him to stop but the blue flash quickly disoriented her enough. So with that, the Courier ran like hell and disappeared into the bowels of the Emerald Forest.

* * *

 **A.N: So. Looks like Raven got a Mother's day special. ;)**

 **... Well. Uh, this is awkward, anyway. Leave a review, please don't be hostile. Constructive criticism is greatly welcome and happy mother's day to everyone.**


	3. Chapter 3: Faunus in Paradise

**Chapter 3: Faunus in Paradise**

* * *

 **A.N: So yeah. I had finished another chapter a few days ago but it wasn't about our dear Mailman. Lemme know if you guys want me to post it. It's really boring, I assure you. Snow dragons, Wint- a certain specialist. Oh I said too much.**

 **Leave a review. Love it or hate it you're welcome to write one. And woah. 18 favorites and 33 follows? Milestone.**

* * *

Raven Branwen scowled as she watched her aura heal the wound that that damned man had left her. It was worse than it looked. He had avoided any major arteries or veins, passing only through soft tissue but still it stung like a bitch. Speaking of Aura, she scowled harder at the thought of her opponent. Anyone with a passing knowledge of Aura could see from the fight that her

Had she been in her full strength, the man would have lost an arm. Still she respected his tenacity, even if she had just eliminated a group of Huntsmen and Huntresses prior to fighting him, there was a huge bounty on her head after all. In any other occasion, she would have ignored the stand-off between the man and Goodwitch. Ozpin was already a doomed fool. She didn't see the need to step in and add to the fact that she was tired from using her portals, all so that she could keep in contact with her damned brother well it didn't do her temper any good.

But the fact that the man's wrist mounted scroll was on the watch list of the Atlesian military changed everything. Power was always a welcome thing in Raven's mind and it never hurt to have more than others. If Ironwood wanted it, then that would mean another piece of the game would go to that damned man and not only that but _she_ might want to take that man's scroll too. What she didn't expect was the fact that the man had been deadlier than expected, hell he was deadlier than most huntsmen she fought against.

Creating a portal, Raven made a mental note to keep a lookout for the wild card that had unwittingly entered Ozpin's game.

* * *

The Courier somehow ended up in a rather dreary cave. Flashing his Pip-boy light, the cave was populated by one of those huge black bears which he promptly finished off with a quick blast to the head.

The Courier wasn't ordinarily a paranoid man. Getting kidnapped and stripped down, fighting in a grueling guerrilla war, getting lobotomized, and surviving numerous attempts on his life by a bunch of football gear armored asshats tend to twist one's perception of safety and carefulness. Which promptly led him to set off a series of plasma mines and frag mines near the entrance, it also led him to add a shit ton of shotgun tripwires around the cavern and a combination of other fun surprises.

So when he fell asleep in his Roughin' it! Bedroll, it was no surprise that he didn't bother to dematerialize the Sequoia.

* * *

 _An unfamiliar black void greeted the Courier_. _Looking down, he felt the familiar comfort of his Elite Riot Gear replaced by the simple caravaneer outfit he wore back in that faithful day._

" _Well. Well. You must be proud of yourself, huh baby" the voice came from behind him._

 _Turning around, the Courier recognized the man immediately. Wearing a checkered suit and standing as if he had never died was Benny. What was different about him was the fact that his throat had Chance's knife jammed into it, his chest was littered with bullet holes and his eyes were crushed, creating a macabre impression of a leaking faucet. Maria hanged from his side. The overly decorated gun was a steadfast monument to the Courier's luck and endurance._

" _You're dead. You're supposed to be dead!" The Courier shouted as he tried to use his pip-boy only for the device to be absent from his wrist._

" _You've gotten too reliant on that thing, baby." The apparition responded as he withdrew a familiar lighter and a cigarette, his voice seemingly unaffected by the knife impaled on his throat. "Taking down Kimball, Caesar, and House, never expected that to happen, baby. Looks like you came out on top. Couldn't resist the thrill of Vegas just like those three… just like me. I have to admit. Putting Hanlon in charge and plunging the NCR in a state of civil disorder was a real good move, baby. Now the NCR has no choice but to abide by your rules."_

" _What are you talking about? I did what was best for the NCR." The Courier growled as he tried to land a powerful uppercut to Benny's face. His fist merely passed through Benny's head as if it was nothing but an illusion._

" _Oh I don't doubt that, baby. The real kicker in all of this is the robot. Plugging him in the mainframe after upgrading the Securitron vault right before the battle, *whistles* an amazing ace in the hole, Vegas is yours. No matter what those pencil pushers say and with those brains at your control *whistles*." "Benny" said as he moved right by the Courier's side._

 _The black void slowly began to take the form of a familiar town in the middle of the Mojave, Goodsprings. The air was ashen however as the prospector saloon and the few ranch buildings around the area burned. The corpses of the townsfolk and legionaries were laid out across the bare Mojave sun. Ravens, vultures, coyotes, and other scavengers devoured what they could from the dead townsfolk and Legionaries_

 _The Courier stared solemnly at the sight before mustering the strength to walk toward s the Dr. Mitchell's house. He looked at Sunny's charred corpse, desperately holding onto Cheyenne's mangled remains. He bit back a chocked sob before moving onwards. Trudy and a few of the other townsfolk were crucified along the road leading to the Doctor's house, their anguished cries and moans ignored by the Wasteland. The doctor's house had been spared from the fires that had engulfed the rest of the buildings. Benny followed him along the way with an almost snarky grin at the Courier's anger._

 _Reaching the good Doctor's house, he opened the door and braced himself for the traumatizing sight. Dr. Mitchell was a good man. One of the few in the wastes who truly wanted to help the people whenever they needed it. So when the Courier found him strapped to a chair, molten metal pouring down his mouth and his face permanently affixed to an expression of pure agony and terror. He just couldn't take it anymore._

" _I buried them all. A long time ago." The Courier said wistfully before his face twisted into rage. The Legion had left no survivors that day. Only death and destruction, a reminder to its enemies that nobody would be spared. This was his New Canaan, and he was Joshua Graham._

" _Well baby. Not many screw with those Legion bad boys and live to tell about it. Guess you expected them to take Caesar's death without responding." Benny said as he took a long whiff from his cigarette before leaving it on the floor._

 _The landscape twisted into the Goodspring graveyard. He felt his hands binded by the rope. In front of him was Jessup, his face was beaten and bloody from the Courier's fists exactly how the Boulder City Showdown went down. Next to Jessup was McMurphy, the dead Khan was alive completely alive and well, save for the gunshot wound on his head, and finally Benny._

" _Well. Guess this charade ends here, huh?" Benny said as he shot the Courier for the third time._

* * *

The Courier woke up in frenzy. Quickly packing up and ignoring the remains of the numerous traps that had been triggered during his sleep, he made his way back into the forest. Nightmares were an important part of his life, they began when his tribe was annihilated, and as his travels grew, so did his sins. As the sun began to rise over the forest, the Courier took the time to calm himself down.

Taking off his helmet and wiping away the sweat, he walked down to a random direction. Desperate to find a settlement and the answers to his questions.

Ever since Humanity shot itself in the face with the Resource Wars and burned itself in the Great War, things like Zion and forests were an extremely rare thing. And this place seemed to have more trees than America had. He had read about a place virtually isolated from the world, some place called a "New Z-land" or perhaps he was in some other place like Zion but that didn't explain the glowing woman and the commonplace portals. He would have expected tribes and with their level of technology, a Brotherhood of Steel chapter.

A deep growl snapped him away from his thoughts. So the Courier found himself surrounded once more by the creatures of Darkness. Beneath the Elite Riot Gear Helmet was a feral smile that struck fear to even the most deadly creatures in the Mojave. And at that moment in a serene forest a fight began with a man with only a bowie knife in hand and a shot of jet mixed with a bit of psycho surrounded by the never ending creatures of darkness. When the Courier was through, the bodies of Grimm had littered his surroundings, refusing to dissipate. Hell he saw more than a few crimson eyes retreat back.

Pathetic.

The Courier hadn't gotten off without a scratch though. There's only so much Future-age armor could do when some sort of Giant Lizard Thing comes barreling through the forest like a bat out of hell and smacks you to the stony entrance of a cave. But nothing a bit of Med-x couldn't solve, that and his reinforced spine did his back wonders. The Courier had done a lot of things. Killing a giant dinosaur lizard thing didn't quite compare to killing a tiny mini deathclaw. That fucker was creepy as hell.

Still, these creatures had one thing going for them. Numbers. Same as the Legion. But the Legion was merely a problem and well. Six was nothing if not a problem solver. Probably why he and Boone became fast friends in the first place.

Materializing his signature Katana and Sequoia while holstering his Blood-Nap into one of the bandoliers present in his armor. He set off to a random direction, hoping that his luck which had led him to be booted from at least five casinos in the Strip. It was a common misconception that the Strip was only composed of four casinos, one of which was out of bounds, a third-rate hotel, and the NCR embassy. How wrong they were.

After what seemed to be an hour of walking and killing a good number of those creatures, his efforts were rewarded. Smoke was plainly visible in the sky. A good sign of Civilization, or the remains of one. Either way, it would give the Courier a good opportunity to get some answers and hopefully a decent place to get some rest. But if worse comes to worse. Well. There's a reason why he had emptied out most of his inventory when Klein told him about the device.

Creeping through the underbrush with his Bowie Knife and Sequoia in hand, the Courier felt like some sort of super soldier. He resisted the urge to quote one holotape movie but as he looked at the Sequoia he muttered "Engravings give you no tactical advantage whatsoever" before chuckling. He really enjoyed the plot, even though it was pretty convoluted.

Shaking his head, he proceeded closer to the source of the smoke. What he saw confused him to say the least. There were tents around the area all bearing the sign of some faction. Just great. It was the face a crimson red wolf with a claw slash around him. It reminded of the Legion to say the least. Shrugging of the rather unfair comparison, he made his way to the outskirts of the camp.

Six climbed a tree and proceeded to withdraw the Anti-Material rifle from his Pip-Boy. Peering through the scope, he saw that the camp was literally abuzz with activity. The first thing he noticed from its inhabitants was the fact that they had animal features. Some had tails, others had some pair of animal ears and he could see that there were some that even possessed horns. They wore what seemed to be masks made from the armor of those creatures that were rampant in the forest. Some sort of white sleeveless jacket, a black hood, and boots. The Courier deduced that whatever technology protected that mysterious woman from his attacks were also present among these people, after all. Who fights without armor?

The camp itself wasn't too large. It comprised of a dozen tents or so. The smoke came from a campfire which was surrounded by a couple of what the Courier assumed to be grunts. The Courier could tell that a few were on patrol as the laughter and chatter that he had heard right below him were anything to go by. Continuing his watch, he observed something interesting. Another one of those aircraft dropped right in the center of the camp.

A rather young man dressed in a black trench coat and black pants emerged. His mask was more decorative, a dirty white mask with flame-like patterns and some slits. Presumably for vision. His trench coat was unbuttoned though revealing a red shirt underneath. Combined with his rather badass sword, well the Courier would have undoubtedly looted the man's remains. The sanctity of the dead's decency was something you should rarely be ashamed for when life was nothing but a passing thing after all.

He watched curiously as the grunts scrambled up and saluted the man. A leader, huh, he was good at killing those. Snapping off from his rather homicidal thoughts, the Courier watched as another figure disembarked, albeit unwillingly if the fact that his hands were probably bounds as he seemed to struggle but was immediately punched in the face by one of the grunts. The man was fairly plain, wearing a black shirt and some jeans and having a rather decent haircut. In short, a civilian.

The Courier watched as the man was forced to his knees in full view in front of the other grunts. They were making jeering noises at the man. The leader calmly stepped in front of the man and with a quick fluid motion, the man's body fell and his neck proceeded to imitate a bloody river. His head rolled away from a good distance and he saw the people cheer as more people were brought from the aircraft. They were summarily lined up and gunned down like a pack of dogs. It was too much.

He watched as the leader wiped his red-colored sword on the corpse of the dead man before proceeding to the well-guarded tent in the camp. The Courier had seen enough. These people deserved to die. Silently, he switched his ammo type to explosive. Aiming at one of the tents, he fired.

* * *

Dan Fowler grew up like any other Faunus in Vale; his antlers were a dead giveaway to his heritage. Bullied and dehumanized all his life starting from his childhood. It left the young Faunus embittered to humanity. His parents had done their best to raise him right, tried to teach him that all humans weren't the same. At first, he believed them. But as the hostilities between the two races remained the same, his bitterness grew. It reached a breaking point when his parents lost their jobs and eventually their homes. So when the time came to show humanity that Faunus weren't the dumb animals they had pegged them for he took it.

So he did what the leadership told him to do. He firebombed Atlas convoys; raided businesses that refused to cater to the Faunus, kidnapped unscrupulous businessmen, and stole shipments of dust. At first he felt discomfort but as the White Fang grew, so did humanity's fear of them. Whenever he was out on the streets, not dressed in White Fang attire, he was treated as an equal. Not as an animal but as a thinking, and sapient being. He had finally found his way to contribute to the world.

So as he sat down by the campfire and laughed with his comrades at the deaths of Tukson and the other traitors, he felt peace. He didn't expect one of the tents to blow up. He watched with a grimace as bodies of his comrades were blown away reduced to bloody chunks. Grimacing, he stood up and clutched his rifle. By then, another tent had been blown up. It was clear that it was the work of an enemy. Gunshots rang out from the forest.

He watched as his friends and comrades panicked. Nobody knew where the explosions were coming from but as the fifth tenth was blown apart, the death rate continued to increase. This place was just a minor outpost and training camp. Adam Taurus had merely passed by to head to another camp located at Forever Falls. He watched as the commanding officers gave the order to protect Adam. He did it without hesitation.

Joining up with his surviving comrades, they were ordered to spread out and search the forest. He was paired with Perry and Deery and five other Faunus. Peery and Deery were good friends. Deery humorously enough was a deer faunus and Peery was a dog one. They made their way into the forest but not before looking at the dead or injured.

He gripped his rifle, the enemy needed to pay. Taking point, he made sure to scour the area and contrary to most of his comrades, he had been in the Fang long enough to know that death from above was also likely. So when they passed by a reasonable distance from the camp, he began to grow agitated. Almost as if they had unwittingly entered a hunter's territory and they were lambs for slaughter.

* * *

The Courier gripped his Blood-Nap and hid himself among the foliage. He felt like one of those Pre-War heroes, some guy named Hambo. He counted a group of ten of those soldiers headed his way. They grouped together rather thinly. Quietly he watched as they began to spread out. He watched as one of the goons lagged behind and looked at the bark of a tree. The Courier easily put him in a chokehold and easily slit the man's neck.

Nodding to himself, he watched as the man choked in his own blood. Going back to the foliage, he could tell that the remaining grunts hadn't noticed their friend's death. Giving a silent sigh of relief he went back into hiding. He watched as the leader, some sort of deer man bark out orders to split up. The Courier materialized a tomahawk. One of many from Zion. Guerrilla warfare was right up his alley.

He left the body there and began to hide back into the foliage and stalked off to hunt more of those people. Climbing up a tree and throwing the tomahawk with deadly precision. It embedded itself on the stomach of one of those goons. A female with antlers fell down and cried out in pain. He watched as one man, probably her boyfriend rush to her side. Only to be silenced with another throw that cleaved through his skull. By then the goons began to take notice of his actions.

Gently falling down from the tree, he drew closer to one of the goons and brutally stabbed him in the head with Blood-Nap. The forest was easily able to conceal him. By this point he had heard shouts of panic and fear. Easily crouching down, he started to flank them. He hid away his weapons, except Blood-Nap, which he gently holstered and settled for his Survivalist's Rifle. The makeshift rifle easily cut through most of the goons before they could react. No ounce of discipline. Legion was a deadlier foe than these fools.

He watched as one of them, a man with a reptile tail holding a sword, charged towards him. He materialized his own Katana and with a quick sidestep and a swift slash, the man never felt the loss of both of his arms as he fell face flat into the ground.

He each shot the heads of the dead goons methodically before making his way to the leader. He was clutching his stomach with one hand, a futile attempt to keep the blood from pouring out. His other had was holding some sort of black rifle which he tried to bring it up the Courier's face rather fruitlessly. But the Courier merely stomped his wrist. He heard a sickening wet crack as the force of the foot met the person's hand.

Dan screamed in pain as this demon stepped on his wrist. He swore in pain as he could feel that his wrist was broken by this demon. The demon aimed his rifle at him and in a terrifying deep voice spoke.

"What are you?" The demon said as he pointed at his antlers.

Dan looked at the demon. Indignation evident in his face, even with the mask. This man had killed his friends and comrades, easily. Deery was still sobbing in the background while clutching her stomach. This demon was taunting him. Even with the mask, Dan could tell that the man was getting impatient as his finger drew dangerously close into pulling his trigger.

"I'm a Faunus" Dan proclaimed proudly ignoring the pain. He wouldn't let this man break his pride as a Faunus. The man merely tilted his head and said "What does that mean?".

Dan couldn't tell whether this man was joking or not. He had slaughtered dozens of White Fang recruits, and though they didn't have their auras unlocked it was still a morbidly impressive feat. The only reason, he survived the man's gun was because his aura had been unlocked. He couldn't resist the slight chill that went to him. This man had killed them and judging from his questions, he had killed them without reason. But Dan could see that he was walking a razor's edge. So carefully he replied. "Faunus; a sapient humanoid species with animal-like characteristics."

The devil seemed to mull over what he said before saying "Who are you people? And don't bother lying or I will break you." He finished hostilely

"We are the White Fang. We fight for the rights of the Faunus which have long been ignored and abused by Humanity!" Dan shouted after internally debating.

"Why did you kill those civilians" The demon growled.

'Civilians?' Dan thought before he remembered the execution of Tuckson and the other traitors. Growling, Dan replied "Those weren't Civilians! They were traitors. Traitors to our righteous cause. Traitors to all of Faunus kind! They foolishly believed that the Kingdoms would treat them as equals and in turn stabbed their brethren in the back." His voice rising with each word.

Those were the last words Dan Fowler said before a 12.7 mm round buried itself inside his head.

* * *

 **A.N: Hey sorry for the late update guys. Hehe. Laziness and Procrastination claimed me.**


	4. Chapter 4: Veni, Vidi, Vici

**A.N: I do not own the Fallout Series nor the animated series of RWBY. They belong to Bethesda Softworks and Rooster Teeth respectively.**

* * *

Chapter 4: Veni, Vidi, Vici

Cambridge Police Station was the first major holding that the Brotherhood of Steel had constructed in the Commonwealth. Now, it would be the last and eventually the graveyard of the remnants of the Brotherhood. The fortifications were holding out. The barricades which ranged from covers and sandbags recovered from military sites to the makeshift posts and towers made of scavenged wood and steel were being manned by the remnants of the Brotherhood's once formidable force.

Molten slag and steel along with the dying battle cries of Brotherhood knights filled the air of Cambridge. Their enemy was limitless. From what was once a fighting force made of ignorant peasants and farmers had turned into an enemy on par with the Gunners. Their buttoned down outfits and leather armor replaced with military grade Combat Armor with Laser Muskets replaced with proper Laser Rifles and in the case of Elite Minutemen equipped with Marine Armor and Gear.

But they were just the least of their problems. The robots that the Minutemen brought with were the deadliest. Sentry Bots reduced many a Knight outside to a bloody red paste as its seemingly endless minigun rounds and concentrated firepower reduced all opposition to scrap. The Institute's lackeys were equipped with their own version of Power Armor. Paladin Brandis, a seasoned veteran of the Brotherhood from Lyons's leadership to Maxon's recognized it as the Power Armor of their arch nemesis. Enclave technology.

"I fucking knew it Haylen! I knew she would betray us!" Knight Rhys shouted rage and most of all hurt evident in his voice as he paced around the reception area of the Police Station, stopping occasionally to kick the wall. The other Brotherhood soldiers merely said nothing. They had all believed in the woman.

Scribe Haylen was once an optimistic woman. She had entered the Commonwealth with hopes that maybe; just maybe she could make a difference to the suffering inflicted to the people living there. So when Nor- The Survivor found them it had seemed like a Godsend.

She had helped them with the ferals and their objectives. Eventually all signs of tension disappeared and the then Initiate became a welcome addition to the Brotherhood. She had joked with them, laughed with them, and even shed her blood for them. She had risen through the ranks and even became a Paladin. She was the very model of what a Brotherhood Soldier should be. Strong, independent, tough, and reliable.

But now, as numerous Knights and Paladins fell outside. Vainly trying to stave off the siege of Institute Cousers and Minutemen, it was hard to believe that they had once called her a friend. Haylen had even reasoned with Rhys that her betrayal at Mass Fusion was so that she could take down the Institute from inside.

When communications with the Prydwen disappeared, she had assumed it was a problem with the radio tower. So when she had climbed the roof, ready to give hell to the scribe who had probably messed up. She was shell-shocked as she watched the Prydwen fell from the sky; crashing into the Boston Airport. Veteran Knights and Paladins, Prominent Proctors, Genius Scribes, and even innocent children. Dead because of one woman's treachery. The Brotherhood was the last best hope of humanity. Bringing light to where the darkness of misused technology thrived. Now it was nothing but an ember snuffed out of its light.

Her musings were interrupted as Rhys shook her. His eyes were resolute. Reminding her not to back down in the face of oblivion.

"Don't worry. We'll get through this. Ad Victoriam, Haylen." Rhys said, his voice a source of comfort, as the enemy slowly tore through their walls and friends. Resolutely she brought up her laser rifle and aimed at the door. "Ad Victoriam" Haylen said, her voice as cold as the steel that binds the Brotherhood.

* * *

The Directorate was silent as they waited for the directress to come. They knew what had happened to their predecessors, so they wisely chose to keep their mouths shut as the so called "Minutemen" watched them. They were intimidating to say the least. They were wearing some sort of Black Armor recovered from some place called "The Nucleus" and some military vessels around Boston.

A Great Purge was happening in the Institute. Anyone who showed an inkling of doubt against the direction that the directress had chosen was quickly warned _._ Those who failed to heed instructions were swiftly exiled but still put to use if deemed useful. Still, it was practically a death sentence in some cases. The whole Commonwealth was still out for their blood because of all the Synth replacements and if the Directress deemed you a threat, a rigged trial and a firing squad awaited at Diamond City.

The Directorate's members had changed remarkably. Gone was Justin Ayo and his dangerously rebellious aspirations, in his place was the inconspicuous Alana Secord. But everyone knew who truly ran the newly dubbed Institute Defense Agency.

Clayton Holdren was still present. Robotics was led by a man called Whitley. He was well-educated, coming from the remnants of the Enclave. Nora knew what the Enclave was. It was a secret well hidden in the U.S Government but she was a bigshot in the covert ops department. She knew all about their oil rig and their plans but so did China. China was a juggernaut when it came to Stealth and subterfuge. Probably why she sympathized with the Railroad. Operations in China were a nightmare. Agents were quickly identified. Informants constantly ratting her out. Same as the Railroad.

Madison Li was still in charge of Advanced Systems, mainly because of her knowledge of the workings of Liberty Prime. Allie Filmore was still the head of Facilities, though the others suspected that she was only alive because of mere sentimentality. The Directress did not take kindly to her using the Agitator for the reactor. Liberty Prime seemed to be a better choice than that.

The automatic doors opened as the Directress entered. Her eyes holding no trace of emotion, but the smile on her face was cold. It reminded Whitley of a certain Colonel before he squashed the thought away as she faced him. The whole room was dead silent as she took her seat at the edge of the table.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. I want to hear the reports of your ongoing research."

Whitley was the first to respond "The Duraframe eyebot project is going remarkably well. Within a few weeks' time the vastly improved Eyebots will be a staple part of the Reformed Commonwealth's army. We have added in Stealth Technology into the active units."

"All resources have been diverted to the development of Synthetic crops and the detoxification of the soil and the mass purification of water. Our joint research with Diamond City's Science! Center has resulted in a more efficient way of soil irrigation. " Holdren responded excitedly. Father had strictly prohibited contact with the surface except SRB. The closest they got to helping the surface was through abduction.

"Liberty Prime is running at peak efficiency. Problems with its power source have been resolved due to the results of the Dark Matter Initiative. The production of Power Armor is starting off to a good start, thanks to the Blueprints of Power Armor, Director Whitley and his _associates_ have given us." Dr. Li said curtly. She couldn't keep her doubts and worry about the robot as the Directress's eyes twinkled before reverting back to their usual emotionless feature.

"There have been no more problems with the power grid." Allie Filmore finished curtly before a silent glare from the Directress caused her to shut up.

"Cambridge Police Station has officially been captured and all forms of useful technologies have been recovered. The Brotherhood remnants have officially been annihilated." Alana said.

"Everyone. Dismissed." The Directress said as each of the heads of the internally thanked the Higher Beings. Being Men and Woman of Science didn't mean shit when your boss was as likely to kill you as a Slumbering Deathclaw. At least the Deathclaw make it quick. "Not you Dr. Li." The woman in question tensed as her accomplices shot her pitying looks. Nobody knew what would make the Directress tick or not.

The room was silent as the other directors filed out. The guards quickly left, fearful of the woman who had slain a Mirelurk Queen all by her lonesome.

"Is Project Remnant a go?" Nora growled out. Dr. Li was the only scientist among the Directorate alerted about the project.

"Yes. The teleportation device discovered in Federal surveillance center K-21B has proven to be more advanced than our own Molecular Relay. I have alerted the Institute Defense Agency to guard the area against any and all possible intruders. X6-88 in currently in the area, waiting for your orders. Several of my scientists have already begun to research its properties. It"

Giving a nod to show that the meeting was over, Dr. Li bumped into Codsworth who hovered into the conference room.

The Mr. Handy was strangely seen coming and going at the Institute after the Brotherhood's defeat. His once rusty metal had been polished and changed into its former pre-war shine. The perks of being the personal butler of the woman in charge of the most advanced Post-War research facilities in all of the American Wasteland.

The rather polite and eccentric Mr. Handy was accompanied by a rather small figure which Dr. Li recognized as that Synth child. The Mr. Handy tipped his Bowler Hat at Madison before gesturing the Directress to follow him. The woman sighed and gave a smile. Not of cruelty as Dr. Li had seen but of genuine emotion. She widened her eyes before schooling her face back into normal and mumbled a quick goodbye before leaving.

"So how's Preston doing by at the Castle? Going mad because of the paperwork I assume?" Nora said as she looked at Codsworth's sensors happily. The old robot was there for her when she staggered out of the Vault. It was also one of her last remaining links to her past.

"Ah mum. You have no idea how bad Mr. Garvey's mountain of paperwork has gotten." The robot chirped. "The Solar Farms that the Institute has created are proving remarkably efficient! Plus the fact that you have added in the unexpected modes of transport such as synthetic horses! Every settlement is looking for the Institute's assistance more than ever! Though Goodneighbor is igniting inconsolable hostilities between our Reformed Commonwealth Government. I do hope Sir Hancock changes his mind. "

"And how are you today Shaun?" Nora asked while ruffling the Synthetic boy's brown hair.

"Ugh, mom! I told you to stop doing that!" The boy pouted but a hint of joy in his eyes betrayed his true feelings. "I just finished my robotics lessons with Aunt Ada. We had so much fun with the robot workbench by the Castle!"

"Ah yes. They both decided to give me legs. I am quite happy to say that jogging around the Castle was an amazing experience! Though I might have given Mr. Sheffield quite a shock. Fell right onto Dogmeat, the poor mutt." Codsworth added with a chuckle.

Nora chuckled at her "son's" antics. The real Shaun died in Vault 111 with her husband a long time ago. The Shaun she met at the Institute was almost a good puppet master as she was. He set the stage for everything. Unfreezing her, leaving Kellogg to die, Virgil and the Glowing Sea. But suffice to say. Nobody fucks with the woman who helped create the U.S Covert Operations Manual. She had led enough Black Operations in China to keep her reflexes sharp. Being thawed out and wearing nothing but a jumpsuit didn't change the fact that she was a very dangerous woman.

Shaun was a twisted man and coming from someone who was well exposed beyond the smoke and mirrors that the US government had used to hide their corruption and madness, that was saying something. When she had bugged the Institute Network, a heavily encrypted hidden piece of information revealed Shaun's sick plans. His plan to replace the leaders of major settlements with Synths loyal to the Institute was a smart plan. Destabilizing the surface with the Super Mutants so that the Institute would be accepted if they offered a cure. But because of Virgil that stage of the plan was ruined. What she couldn't understand was the next phase. "Elevating humanity" by replacing everyone with Synths to ensure peace and "ushering forward a new dawn for humanity". Ramblings of a madman. About the Commonwealth being a dead world and the future of humanity lying below. She had ended her fair share of doomsday plots back in her spy days even if those doomsday ideas were stolen and eventually still used by the government.

But the madness of one man was no reason to justify the destruction of the Institute. It was a cornucopia of advanced technologies able to heal the surface and help make prosperous settlements, even if they didn't want to join the Minutemen. By helping the Operators conquer unaligned settlements, she gave the Minutemen a clear enemy and when the Operators died. It served as an evident reminder to life without the Minutemen would be like. If history may remember her as a monster so be it. But in the end, she had manipulated the best possible outcome. As they say, the end justifies the means.

Her rumination was disturbed when Shaun poked her in the leg. It was clear, he was concerned. Sighing, she gave him a warm smile and quickly said "So how's classes with your Aunt Curie and the others?"

The boy gave a quiet huff at how his mother avoided the topic. "She taught me a bit of Biology and Geometry. Uncle Deacon also taught me all about being sneaky like a spy! He's so cool!" the boy gushed excitedly. Innocence not yet succumbing to the cruelty of the Wasteland. Chuckling and ruffling Shaun's hair once more, she went to the Relay bidding a farewell to her child and her stalwart companion.

* * *

Federal Surveillance Center K-21B was a bunker designed to house Government workers and officials in the event of Nuclear Armageddon. But it held a much more important purpose. It held the device used for Project Remnant. Project Remnant was a backup plan should the Enclave fail. A teleportation program made so that the other remnants of the U.S of A could colonize a different world discovered by the United States Space Administration. It was well hidden from prying eyes however due to being at the depths of the the deadly Glowing Sea.

Materializing in a blue flash, Nora Jensen arrived at the bottom of the bunker. It was in a sorry state. It's once pristine white walls were in a state of dire disrepair. Numerous terminals and desks were strewn about the area. But what unnerved Nora was the lack of corpses. Pre-War facilities usually had a skeleton or two. But this place was eerily devoid of signs of life. As if its inhabitants had just up and left. And considering the circumstances, that was probably the case. The buzz of activity from the Institute auxiliary scientists and synths were the only signs that life had graced the Bunker.

She was greeted by a scientist wearing the Institute's signature cleanroom suit. Memories of a frozen tomb sprung to mind before she removed the thought. Now was not the time to be sentimental over the past. The man gave reached out his hand in what was a gesture for a handshake which Nora promptly accepted. It was nice to see that some people didn't lack formality.

"Ah Mrs. Jensen. My name is Dr. Moseley. I don't believe we've met, considering that the Institute is basically a subterranean city." Moseley chuckled.

"Please Doctor. The pleasure is mine. So let's get to work." Nora responded flashing a smile honed through years of training. Charisma was her prime weapon after all.

She could feel the man's defenses drop. No doubt he had heard of the _unfounded_ claims against her. Moseley led her to a hallway behind her. They passed by the 1st generation synths and the occasional Courser as the Hallway lead to a steel door. Moseley opened a terminal right next to it and the door opened, revealing a room reminiscent of the Institute's molecular relay which numerous Institute scientists bearing the logo of Advanced Systems studied intently.

A simple white platform was present in the room. In fact it could have been described as a larger version of the Signal Interceptor. A gen 1 stood quietly into the platform and was dematerialized into a bright blue energy. At this point the scientists began to cheer before noticing Nora. They quickly began to act all formal before an amused chuckle reverberated throughout the room.

"Relax boys. I don't bite." The scientists chuckled before quieting down. The Directress was kind when she wanted to be as long as you kept your head down.

"So how's the testing going along?" Nora asked but judging from the almost giddy atmosphere it was safe to say they made a breakthrough.

"We've sent a fully armed contingent of Gen-1's and 2's along with Coursers X9-27 and X4-18. They seem to have encountered hostile resistance and requested reinforcements. They describe the other side to be a military facility in disrepair." Moseley responded.

Just as Nora was about to step into the platform; she felt someone tap her shoulder. Much to her delight it was the deadliest Courser in Institute history. Wearing the standard Courser uniform and armed with an Institute Laser Rifle was X6-88. The Courser was emotionless as usual but a slight ghost of a pleased smirk graced his stoic features.

"You really didn't think I'd let you enter this experiment by yourself Ma'am?"

"Ah X6. I was wondering when you were gonna show. So you mind if we get this show on the road?"

"I have already filed out the paperwork which leaves Mrs. Secord temporarily in charge of the Institute and I'm certain Mr. Garvey is more than capable to lead the Minutemen in your absence. You're welcome." X6 said dryly. The Courser had started to show more emotion in contrast to his more stoic counterparts. But he was still a stick in the mud just less severe. Stepping into the platform with her loyal assassin, the Directress of the Institute was transported into an entirely different place.

In a world as cruel and terrible as the Commonwealth, thriving was an option reserved for the strong. The same could be said for Remnant. Lucky for Nora, for even Hell would hesitate to put her in its jaws.

* * *

The snow crunched beneath the Wanderer's combat boots. His hands clutched the familiar form of his Xuanlong assault rifle, even as its strap was slung over his shoulders. He had debated whether to use his Winterized Power Armor. He settled for his Winterized Combat Armor in favor of camouflage. It wasn't hard to notice the huge imposing figure that the people knew as "Power Armor" even in this blizzard. He couldn't fathom why Raiders would even bother to try and attack a walking tank with a laser rifle capable of melting their metal armor.

The Wanderer contemplated where on the world was he. Nuclear Winter was highly unlikely as two centuries had already passed after the bombs. The ghouls of Underworld had told him about some sort of "Great Winter" sometime after the war; spreading "Green Snow" all over the landscape. Now as far as everyone knew, the world was plunged into an eternal radioactive summer.

Snapping out of his musings, he continued walking. The blizzard slowly decreased in intensity as the Wanderer picked up his pace. Hypothermia would be inevitable at this rate, if he didn't use his Power Armor. There was no telling what kind of creatures lived in this frigid wasteland. Perhaps there were creatures like deathclaws capable of ripping his armor to shreds.

The Wanderer had arrived at the outskirts of what looked to be an abandoned town. There were no signs of recent activity. Around it were metallic walls, no doubt to keep creatures and hostiles away supplemented with several watchtowers. Moving closer, he couldn't stop the feeling of paranoia that overtook him as he continued to move. With each step he took, it started to feel as if things would go down south fast.

Snapping into combat mode, the Wanderer brought his assault rifle up and peered at the sights. Arriving nearer to the walls he noticed that the walls were littered with bullet holes and claw marks. Corpses of the mysterious soldiers littered the environment. Some of them looked to be eviscerated, their guts and intestines creating a distinct shade of scarlet in the snowy ground. Others were merely frozen, as if they were the statues of some Greek monster that he had read about once. What was interesting about them however the markings in their armor. The majority of corpses had red or blue markings but quite a few were yellow. 'Perhaps a symbol of rank' the Wanderer thought.

What intrigued Liam however the fact that other corpses were also visible. They wore a different type of uniform. A white sleeved jacket, and a black hood, with black pants. He noted that the corpses also wore some sort of white boney mask. The Wanderer idly noted that they wore fingerless gloves. It perplexed him to say the least. What separated them from the soldiers however was the fact that some of them had animal like features like tails and an extra, maybe, set of ears present. Probably a mutation caused by the radiation.

The Wanderer mused that the two factions might have been at war with each other. He noticed however that some of the corpses were literally frozen. And as far as he could tell, they were all using rifles, pistols, and even swords. He took a bit of time to scavenge what he could from the corpses, especially ammo. He had only bought only five weapons from his usually deadly arsenal.

A sniper rifle, his classic Blackhawk, Jingwei's shocksword and a Laser Rifle. A decent arsenal for all wasteland encounters. Plus the sword and rifle he scavenged from the dead pilot. It was a far cry from his usual arsenal but the sheer weight of it all was enough to make his back ache. Even if it was digitized into the databanks of a Miniature Computer.

He passed though the ruined entrance of the community, determined to get some answers. The stench of death wasn't hard to miss even with the snow. Several buildings and Quonset huts and shacks littered the area. The place could have been called a military compound. The buildings were obviously damaged by gunfire and explosives but there were distinct signs of claw marks and he swore he saw one of the buildings completely frozen. The most prominent part of the place was the hangar that was a bit of a walk away.

Before the Wanderer took another step forward however, the sounds of guttural howls and roars caused him to crouch. He saw what looked to be the silhouette of a soldier desperately shooting at something in front of him. The soldier however was quickly mobbed by a group of creatures that looked like deathclaws before he could do anything. The Wanderer noted that the man glowed a light blue as the creatures attacked. The poor man was decapitated and eaten by the pack of animals before they lost interest and dispersed.

The Wanderer quickly materialized a Stealth Boy and crouched down. The Stealth Field quickly enveloped him and he internally gave a quiet sigh of relief. He went to the dead body and in wasteland tradition, took what he could and gave nothing back. What was interesting about the man however was the fact that he had a green outline, probably a general or some high ranking soldier.

He noticed that the man had some sort of keycard. Quickly storing it, he made his way to the hangars. The hangars' gates were closed but a door with a keycard lock right near the gates easily made entering a whole lot easier. It was at this time that the stealth field died out. When the Wanderer entered the hangar, he expected a quick gate away. What he didn't expect was a group of soldiers aiming their guns at him from a reasonable distance. Judging from the numerous claw marks and bullet holes that seemed to adorn their armor, they were survivors of the battle and those creatures.

One of them, a soldier with what seemed to be the most modified assault rifle and armor took a step closer to the Wanderer. He seemed a bit leaner than the other soldiers and his rifle had a grenade launcher attached to it, along with a red-dot sight. His armor was flashier than the others. A skull decal was on his helmet and a rather well trimmed black beard was visible.

Stopping in front of the Wanderer and aiming his rifle, he said "Who the hell are you?"

* * *

 **A.N: So. The Survivor has finally arrived and the Wanderer is in contact with the the wood Military.. Yipee. Anyway. Yeah sorry for the lateish upload, hope you guys liked the chapter. Love it or hate it. Leave a review. Constructive Criticism is welcome.**


	5. Chapter 5: America Rising

**Chapter 5: America Rising**

* * *

The Courier entered the camp of this "White Fang" bloody yet none the worse for wear. It was relatively easy wiping out the rest of the other parties. A fragmentation mine there and a bit of well-aimed shots here was enough to decimate them all. He almost pitied them. Their discipline was sorely lacking that even the fuckups in Camp Golf stood out as disciplined and well trained troops. They were nothing but rowdy children when compared to the monolithic abomination that was Caesar's Legion.

The Faunus reminded him of Ghouls in a way. Being treated no less than an animal because of physical appearances was a strange thing he never understood. The Wastelands were already shitholes, why make it worse for others. Still humanity never changes. Even when it blew itself up in total Nuclear Annihilation and burned itself in the invisible fire known as Radiation, pettiness and racism would still endure.

Emerging from the bushes and entering the camp, he was immediately confronted by the leader. Spiky red hair greeted him and his weapon was immediately drawn. The red blade glinted in the daylight. His face held an impassive poker face yet he could immediately tell by the tensing of the man's shoulders that the Courier's hostile actions wouldn't be forgiven. Flanked at his side was a rather large man who's own mask held some intricate symbols and was armed with a chainsaw.

The Courier let out his own weapons, his trusty Sequoia and Katana. The materialization seemed to have shocked his opponents, so he quickly utilized the time to quickly shoot at them with his sequoia. The powerful revolver had quite strong recoil, and a released a more powerful round. He counted at least three shots right at the man's chest.

The man, with speed that couldn't have been possible without a reflex booster or at least a Godless amount of time training, quickly slashed at the air with grace. He seemingly cut or deflected the bullets before rushing towards the Courier. His speed not as fast as the woman but still fast enough to cause the Courier a headache.

The Courier narrowly rolled to the side as the man let out a quick slash at where his torso used to be, sending an almost beautiful streak of fire through the air. Standing up, the Courier quickly let loose a quick strike of his own, which the man quickly parried before the two backed away from each other. They circled each other, mimicking two predators sizing each other up. Chainsaw man was apprehensive, almost not daring to get in the way of the two deadly forces in front of him.

Flames and sparks danced in the air as slashes and parries were exchanged. Wilt and West clashing under the hot sun in a burned and bloody camp. The Courier noticed that the man still clutched the sheath for his blade. A strange thing to do as the White Fang Leader's fighting style favored agility and speed. The whole man's speed was almost comparable to a Freeside Addict who had combined Jet and Turbo. It was very unnerving. Combined that with the High Tech technology protecting them from wounds just like that woman had. Everyone here was a dangerous foe.

The Courier gritted his teeth as he dematerialized his Sequoia. Wasting bullets was not what he wanted at this situation. Still, the technology in this place was amazing, had this been a less deadly situation he would have frothed at his mouth with the weapons he had seen. Snapping back to reality, the Courier avoided a swift decapitation as he backpedaled, as the man's fancy sword let its signature flames burn the air.

The Leader quickly brought up his sheath and the Courier widened his eyes as he saw the familiar scene of the barrel of a gun facing him. That damned sheath was a gun. This world was getting too ridiculous. Who knows, maybe he'd end up seeing a Luxobrew Coffee Pot or something, turn into a flamer. He swore he saw the man smirk as his finger seemed to savor pulling the trigger of the concealed weapon.

The Courier swiftly brought up his Pip-Boy to shield his face from the incoming bullets. Glass shattered as the rounds from Blush penetrated the bullet resistant glass of the miniature computer. Achieving something that even some of the most deadliest creatures and individuals in the Mojave couldn't do. Damaging the Courier's pride and joy.

At that moment as items started alternating between materializing and dematerializing throughout the grassy landscape and with the Pip-Boy still uselessly latching onto the mailman, the Courier could only see red.

* * *

Adam Taurus was not one to be easily intimidated. Once he had eliminated an entire camp of Atlas Soldiers right in Solitas because of some secretive research program of theirs that had involved combining Aura and robotics. Such a technology could be useful for the Fang as they could easily produce their own army of Huntsmen-leveled soldiers. So when this upstart murdered his fellow Faunus and destroyed one of his training camps, it was enough to make him very livid.

So when the upstart had arrived into his camp, bloody with Faunus blood. He expected a quick fight. Just another overconfident Huntsman who would be inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. He internally laughed when the man entered, anyone with a brain knew that it was hopeless to fight without an Aura. What he didn't expect was a warrior, capable of going toe-to-toe with him. Not many could withstand his Iaido sword fighting style. The rapid strikes usually killed his enemies rather quickly but not cleanly.

So when Blush, a gun which sported gun modifications that would undoubtedly lead him to a lifetime of incarceration and loaded with armor piercing bullets enhanced by dust, utterly destroyed the man's wrist-mounted scroll he didn't expect the man's semblance to start going haywire. Amber lights began to fill his view, which quickly began to flicker in and out of existence. His Faunus senses were proving themselves to be a mixed blessing as his eyes were momentarily blinded by the glow of the lights.

He felt something hit his head, which was thankfully not a bullet but rather _… a coffee cup_? In this momentary confusion however, Adam Taurus felt himself knocked down by a rather heavy force.

The Courier felt satisfaction as he tackled the bastard who destroyed his Pip-Boy. The thing was an extension of him, another part of him. It was a sacred technology. He was on top of the bastard and he had never been more thankful for the Think Tank's addition of Adamantium into his skeletal system. So when he brought down his fist into the bastard's face. Each punch caused the man to flash red. It was oh so satisfying. He counted at least a fifth punch before he was pulled off by the bastard's lover who he promptly kicked in the place where the sun don't shine.

The Courier looked to his side and saw a desk fan out of all things and shrugged. He threw the damned thing at the man. Who quickly dodged and picked up his sword and sheath. Before the Courier could scramble back into his feet however, the bastard shot him. He counted at least nine shots enter his chestplate.- before he heard the empty click of a gun. And at this moment, the Courier lied down, sprawled across the grass, surrounded by death, fire, and the accumulation of his hoarding habits.

* * *

Locker 636 held an infamous reputation among the Beacon staff. Its rocket booster was notorious for always going well beyond the intended destination. Its holographic interface was most often glitchy and caused the locker to go to a different area. Still, due to budget cuts it was not replaced and was available to whomever unlucky student was assigned to it. Yet that was only the official reason. There was a hidden mythos surrounding that locker. It had played many an important role in Beacon's history. It was even used by one Summer Rose during her time in the prestigious combat school.

So when said student was jammed into the locker by Cardin Winchester, the school's resident bully and was sent rocketing (pun intended) away. The teachers wondered whether the locker's hidden magic would provide something beneficial to Vale. Oh How Little They Knew.

And so it was, as Jaune found it increasingly difficult to keep the contents of his stomach from going loose in a confined space such as a locker, clutching onto Crocea Mors for dear Life. Motion Sickness was not a topic to make light of. Even if Yang and her puns said otherwise. Vomit Boy was a name he would rather not go by for the rest of his life.

As the seconds melted by into minutes, Jaune was praying to Oum to let the horror end. He thought he might have gotten delusional when he had heard the unmistakable sounds of the roar of a Bullhead pass by. Mercifully, the locker finally landed and Jaune, with force he never knew he had, opened the locker doors and emptied the contents of his stomach down to the grass.

When all was said and done, Jaune looked at where in the heck he was. First off, he was in the Emerald Forest if the trees were anything to go by. But judging from the abandoned tents all of which prominently bore the emblem of the White Fang, he was in deep trouble. Just as Jaune was about to tiptoe back to his locker and hoped to Oum that the Professors would at least send a Bullhead to look for him, he noticed that some of the tents looked to be destroyed.

He heard a rather loud noise; a groan. It reminded him of those noises those zombies in those movies that he and his sisters watched so much. Shaun of the Grimm was a really awesome movie. Gulping and slowly turning around, he was faced with a monster. It held the guise of a man. But its appearance was a creature tainted by darkness. Slowly it stood up, blood coated its duster, and Juane noticed the myriad of limbs and corpses that littered the camp. He gagged and had he not puked out his guts earlier, he would have done so.

The monster held a dark sword. If Crocea Mors was a blade forged in honor and virtue that was synonymous with the name of Arc. Then the sword in front of him was forged in bloodlust and cruelty. The thing's eyes were a bloody red; bloodier than the eyes of the creatures of darkness. It promised a ruin more horrible than he could imagine.

And at this moment as Jaune found himself enveloped by fear. All he heard was "Oh great. Another asshole out to kill me." Before locking himself back in the locker.

* * *

Nora blinked as she and X6 found themselves in a room similar to the Institute's relay room. In comparison however, it was obvious however from the polish and shine that it was well maintained despite all these years. In front of them was a simple hydraulic door. Moving closer, she materialized Kellog's Pistol which she had long modded to perfection. There was something empowering about walking with a giant hand cannon.

X6 withdrew his Institute Laser rifle and nodded. Nora pressed the button which opened the door. What greeted them was complete pandemonium. Blue laser beams whizzed around the air as dozens of synths ranging from the skeletal 1st generation synths to the stoic and deadly Coursers were barricading the door with a series of sandbags and metal walls.

They were shooting at a group of black deathclaw like creatures and strangely enough black, bone-plated Yao Guais. They fell easily enough but for each creature they brought down, two more took its place. It was like a never ending hoard which poured out from the hallway in front of them. Nora watched as one of the Synths, a generation two was suddenly _possessed_ by a ghost-like apparition which seemed to burst from the sea of darkness. She had coined the black deathclaws: Blackclaws, while the Yao Guai would have the same terminology. She settled for the term Geist for the creature of possession.

The 'possessed' synth turned its gun towards Nora. Its eyes were shined a dark red that matched the bloody red eyes of the Creatures surrounding them. Yet it was quickly executed by the confused Directress. Her presence was noticed by an Institute Courser who quickly saluted before focusing his attention and Laser Rifle back to the crowd of monsters.

"Greetings Directress. Institute designation: X9-27 at your service. I apologize for not completing the operation swiftly; these creatures came in hordes and droves. I will gratefully accept any punishment, you deem worthy for me." The monotonous voice droned on as his shot pierced one of those Blackclaws eyes. Coursers were bred for war, plain and simple. She could appreciate such a thing. She was one and the same after all; she was merely born in the wrong century.

"No disciplinary action will be given. Give me a brief rundown of the situation." Nora said as she and X6 took their place and began their attempts at cleaning out the horde.

"Eleven generation one synths out of the original thirty were destroyed in the ensuing chaos, three are critically damaged and the rest are still ready combat efficient. Ten of the thirty five 2nd generation Synths have been destroyed by the creatures, five are currently critically damaged. The rest are mission-capable. And Institute Courser, designation: X4-18 is currently missing." Nora frowned at the last one.

Losing a Courser was not something she enjoyed. They were very difficult to replace and more often than not their experience and combat efficiency were incredibly valued. Even a Minuteman patrol couldn't compare to one despite their present military-grade training and equipment. Still the Courser was probably alive; it took nothing less than a direct hit from a missile launcher to end one.

The horde thinned out pretty quickly. The Blackclaws proved to less than sturdy than their counterparts back on Earth. The Yao Guais fared slightly better than the blackclaws as they required a few more shots to be put down. The Geists were made to be a priority as they proved that they could possess the synths. Strangely enough, they seem to have ignored Nora and the two Coursers, preferring to target the more robotic 1st and 2nd generation Synths.

After what had seemed to be an hour or so of holding out, the contingent finally saw the hallway. But what intrigued the Directress was the fact that the corpses seemed to sublimate into gas despite clearly having muscles and flesh inside. She made a mental note to capture some of those creatures, as Bioscience would have a field day with these things. She still had enough Synths to keep moving and with her and X6 on the fray, this was going to be easy.

Easy was an understatement. It took no less than twenty broken synths, she had lost most of her generation one synths but that was understandable. They lacked the synth armor, most of the 2nd generation could use. The missing Courser was found dead in the Atrium much to Nora's irritation. He had died from numerous lacerations and slashes. Though from the lack of fusion cells and the fact that his combat knife was lodged into some boney plate that laid down in the steel floor, it was evident he went down fighting.

The facility's layout wasn't that complex. Beyond the transportation room was an atrium of sorts. It was generally doing well save for lack of lighting and was in generally a good state despite the myriad of skeletons wearing the fatigues of the U.S military and the olive drabbed Combat Armor. While others wore a mechanic's jumpsuit or a lab coat. It was clear that only government officials were a priority for Project Remnant. Atop the Atrium however was a clear window. It was obviously supposed to mimic the offices of the Overseers for the Vaults. Nora now knew where her spot rested in this installation.

The aftermath of the cleanup was fairly uneventful. The Living Quarters were virtually untouched but rather modest. It was a simple layout of two bunk beds and some desks or two with a bookcase. The power source was a rather beautiful looking generator called the "CANDLE fusion power system" which strangely enough was only running in 10 percent efficiency. Though activating the terminal caused it to provide power to the rest of the facility. The Mr. Handys on the other hand were virtually untouched. It was almost as if the robots were spared from the horde of creatures that murdered their masters.

The armory was a boon to say the least. Protectrons, Mister Gutsys, Sentry Bots, were in stasis. Rows of power armor affixed to the signature yellow stations, from the venerable T-45's to the more advanced T60's were all present. Cabinets of Buffout, stimpacks, and psycho were all present. Weapons from the Ballistic class to the valued Energy weapons were all available with ammunition boxes all ready. It was enough to supply a small army and from the skeletons by the atrium. None of them got a chance to even fight back.

The head office was quite luxurious. A comfy leather chair was prominently facing the door. In front of it was a desk made of pristine ebony wood. The desk had a terminal and a few idle items such as folders, pencils around it. The General's quarters were also located in the Head office. It was almost pristine and untouched with a Mr. Handy, still cleaning up the room and generally doing a much better job than Codsworth did for the last two hundred years.

"Scanning, accessing Historical and Federal Archives. Identity matched, Subject 405 of the Revenant Project, now known as "Nora Jensen". Authorized for Omega Level Clearance." The Mr. Handy seemed to hibernate before suddenly springing up to life.

"Welcome to Federal Facility #345, Stronghold Echo. As the only member of the Federal Government with Omega Level Clearance to the bunker, you are designated as the head of this facility. What can I do for you today?" The robot asked.

* * *

Nora smiled as she watched from the window. Synths were dutifully carrying crates of research materials or munitions. Scientists began to pour out from the relay room. Fascinated at the prospect of the advanced technologies the U.S Government had hidden away. Institute personnel weren't the only people present however. The Minutemen may have protected the people at a minute's notice. But now, their purpose had changed. They only served to propagate the strength of her empire. So when the relay started to send out her personal Elite Division. The Black Knights, she knew this world would bend to its knees.

They were comprised of the soldiers that had distinguished themselves from others. Ex-Enclave personnel, Courser dropouts, and even just normal Minutemen who had proven they were more battle-hardened and fanatical than their peers were the soldiers of this elite division.

She could tell by the numerous reactions from the scientists who barely tried to hide the drool from their mouths as the Advanced Power Armor made its debut. The clank of Power Armor walking through the hallways and towards the atrium was audible enough that Nora herself couldn't suppress a shiver of delight.

They all stood stoically, in perfect rows. Plasma Rifles at the ready. Nora took that as her cue to head to the window overlooking the balcony.

"Men and Women of America, we stand at the Frontier; A new world wherein the horrors of the Atomic War had never happened, where the tainted corruption of Radiation never tainted the pure DNA of our species. A world wherein the pitiful Ghoul, or any other perversions of Humanity do not exist. Even now, as we facilitate Mankind's survival in this new world, our comrades and scientists are still trying to rebuild the Quagmire of despair that is the Old World. This world will be a stepping stone to a new age. Bountiful resources await us. Resources which will save countless lives. The Brotherhood of Steel may be gone but I assure that they will not be the last to question and oppose this utopia that we are trying to create. But we must not stray from this path ahead of us. Rather we must keep calm against the awaiting storm and show our enemies the Thunderous Beast that is America." Nora said as her steely voice echoed throughout the atrium.

She was met with rapturous applause before she made her goodbye. This was all too easy.

* * *

"Well. Who the hell are you?!" The soldier shouted as he kept his grip on his rifle trained at the Lone Wanderer.

The Lone Wanderer internally groaned. He couldn't just kill these people. He didn't want to attract any unnecessary hostilities in this Wasteland. These people were also very likely military which meant there were more of them. And this time there was no Old Man with an army of Knights equipped with the most advanced weapons in the U.S Military at his side. The Wanderer decided to play his card carefully.

"I'm just a scavenger. I was just hoping to find some supplies up north around here." The Wanderer said, adding just the right amount of worry in his voice.

The Soldier seemed to lower his rifle a little bit. Scavengers weren't that uncommon. They mainly pilfered through destroyed settlements, searching for dust and abandoned weapons to sell. The Kingdoms never really had authorization over these types of people, as when a settlement is destroyed, it ceases to be a concern for the Kingdoms. The main problems were the refugees, the political backlash towards the Council.

Just as the soldier opened his mouth, a cold shiver filled the room. And a dragon's roar pierced through the skies.

* * *

 **A.N: Hooray. I'm not dead, so calm down y'all. Anyway. Hope you enjoy this chapter.**


	6. Chapter 6: So, the Curtain Shows

**A.N: *Turca Alla Rondo plays in the background* Greetings readers. I have come to life. Exams and projects have swamped me to the point of exhaustion. Hehe. Wubba Lubba Dub Dub!**

 **Chapter 6: So, the Curtain Shows**

* * *

Ozpin blinked as he had finished reading the reports on his scroll. Few things had the ability to bring surprise to the world-weary headmaster. But this one came close. He knew something would happen when Jaune had received that locker. Just not this level of suspense and ludicrousness.

When the boy's locker had been tracked down to an area deep into the Emerald Forest, he had immediately mobilized the resources to retrieve the young knight. He may have been lacking presently in skills, especially compared to his partner: the prodigal Phyrra Nikos; but he made up for it with his boundless potential. And despite everything, Jaune Arc was still and foremost a student. It didn't help that if he was found dead, then it would be hard to hide that from his family, and his teammates and friends.

It would have been natural that the duty of retrieval landed on the deputy headmistress of Beacon. After all there was a very dangerous enigmatic player who was still on the loose. One who's side remained unknown. What better way to deter him than one of the most powerful huntress in all of Vale. If it wasn't for the mere fact that the player was scared off by her in the first place. It wouldn't be wise to send this new player into becoming one of Her pawns. Already he had lost many allies over the course of this long and brutal war. It would be prudent to avoid giving her more pieces to work with.

Ozpin had sent a certain Coffee themed team to retrieve the knight. Atlas Military was too noticeable and if his fears were correct then the White Fang would surely take note of the existence of the player and bring it to Her knowledge. There wouldn't be anything suspicious about a team of huntsmen cutting down Grimm in the forest, and they had proven themselves to be quite capable in the past. If worse came to worst, he could write off their deaths as another Grimm incident. After all they would just be another name to the list of regrets, he had accumulated through his life. He shook off that macabre thought before contemplating about the Wildcard.

This man had injured Raven Branwen. It was given that she was not in her optimal strength that time as he had incapacitated several squads of Huntsmen and Huntresses after her, and he had known that the enigmatic woman would do no harm to this player, only testing his strength. Yet to be able to injure one of the strongest huntress he had ever known, despite the given injuries, was no easy task. He doubted the skills of an average Huntsman would have been able to get past her aura and skills, much less give her a flesh wound.

Que now to the present. As Ozpin had learned. This player could have only been described as a Wildcard. As images of a locker filled with coffee cups dominated his scroll coupled with several more images of a decimated White Fang camp with the broken and bloody corpses of Faunus laid stoically and spread out. Not only that, it appears the Wildcard had slain more than a few, as bullet-riddled corpses in the forest came into view. Almost acting as if it was a testament to this player's might. Normal White Fang operatives stood no chance in front of a trained huntsman. But the sheer brutality of it all was enough to make Ozpin concerned.

It was at this point, Ozpin knew he had to refill his mug.

* * *

Several packs of Beowolves ran swiftly and stealthily beneath the midnight sky. Hungry with an insatiable lust for the blood and an inexplicable craving for the despair and sea of negative emotions that came with death, they carefully prowled along the area. At this moment, they began to stalk two very strange humans. One which could have easily been eviscerated, as he reeked of inexperience. And another, who strangely enough contained the same aura as their dark brethren.

"How long are you going to keep that shotgun aimed at me?", Jaune practically whimpered as he pushed a particularly heavy rusty shopping cart full of ammo boxes through the dirt, while the Demon trained his shotgun unflinchingly at the young knight with one hand and dragged a shopping cart with a mountain of weapons piled atop it; a pile which held weapons which could have been described as outlandish and ridiculous such as a flaming lawnmower sword and some sort of green laser gun to something so ancient and vintage that it looked like something one might find in a museum.

It had been a few hours ago since they had abandoned the camp. Jaune felt himself grimace, he couldn't exactly see what had happened at the camp. All he saw was fire and a zombie marching with a Black Sword, coated in what seemed to be blood. And when the Devil had destroyed his locker door using a gauntlet that had a saw attached to it. It was enough for him to swiftly give up. He didn't bother to look at the destruction of the camp, nor did he notice the dead Faunus, far too focused on the man who was quite capable of eviscerating him into pieces.

"Sorry kid. Nothing personal. Just take me to the next town so I can sell some of these. Then you can have your little sword and shield back." The Courier responded as he shrugged and patted the sword and shield which was sheathed. He needed to sell some of these ASAP and buy those forcefields. If only he had those forcefields when he was contracted to contact the Boomers. Now that had been a chore.

The Courier knew that the Wasteland was a harsh and unforgiving place. Even the most inconspicuous person could end up being your reaper. So, it was only natural to be wary of this young boy. "Uh. V-Vale's the nearest city." Jaune stammered. He was hoping that Mrs. Goodwitch would swoop in to his rescue. No matter how unlikely that would be.

The banter was cut short as at least eight Beowolves emerged from the trees surrounding the duo, fangs and claws glinting menacingly. Jaune quickly let go of the cart and instinctively reached for Crocea Mors. Only to realize that his captor had his weapons. The Devil seemed to realize what Jaune w1as asking for as he quickly nodded his head before he pumped his Riot Shotgun and threw Crocea Mors towards Jaune, which was just a few feet away.

Jaune ducked as a Beowolf alpha came close to decapitating him, the grocery cart was knocked down as Ammo and Grenades spilled everywhere. The Courier on the other hand, fared better. His riot shotgun, a harbinger of death. A Beowolf was knocked back and down for the count as several pellets of Legion Denarii tore through its chest. The remaining three Beowolves backed off.

Jaune, on the other hand, scrambled to his feet and the Alpha grinned. The Courier picked up a Blood-Nap from his Cart and threw it towards the Alpha Beowolf. The menacing steel pierced the back of the monster's neck.

The lumbering beast roared but a quick shot reduced his head into a fine black mist before the rest of its body evaporated into nothingness. Jaune picked up Crocea Mors before flashing the Courier a grateful smile. The Courier nodded before he finished off the remaining Beowolves on his end. Jaune on the other hand, had a bit of difficulty fighting against the normal Beowolves. One of them scratched the surface of the shield before Jaune bashed the shield into the thing's face. Jaune then stabbed the wolf's stomach. He didn't consider the other Beowolves. One which nearly pounced at his side before being shot to death by the Courier.

The sole Beowolf proved no challenge for the young knight, as a quick series of slashes from Crocea Mors sent the thing dissipating back into nothingness.

The young knight grinned triumphantly and drew close to his captor, hand gestured for a high five. One which caused the Courier to tense up but ultimately bemusedly accepted. He couldn't believe that this kid would forgive the mailman's blatant holdup of him. Idiots still existed in the Wasteland after all.

This moment of forgiveness was cut off as another one of those Vertibird-wannabes circled on top of them. It came close to landing as it dropped off a group of four people.

The Courier couldn't fathom as to what he was seeing. The leader, a woman which the Courier had to admit dressed better than any of those White Glove scum, gave him a disgusted look. Her sunglasses barely hiding her rather beautiful cocoa eyes. Her dark brown hair combed to perfection. Yet her impeccable dressing style was offset by the blood which covered it. She had no discernible weapon with her. Just gripping into a rather large briefcase. Her skin was fair and the Courier admitted that she completely outclassed every woman he had ever seen from New Reno all the way to Utah.

Her compatriot, a rather cute bunny mutant, on the other hand was giving him a scared and scornful frown. Just like her companion, her brown combat gear was also stained with blood. She also had no weapons with her. Just a simple camera.

The other two, were equally bizarre. A lumbering giant who held a giant sword. His left arm being almost completely armored by emerald green armor. He was wearing a simple robe worn over a black shirt with simple brown pants and equally simple black-and-green boots.

The other one was an unnerving teenage boy with rather dark skin and dark messy and copper hair. Wearing a simple orange vest and a pair of black jeans. His weapon was a pair of blades attached to his arms. He got into a combat stance that the Courier had recognized from an Old-World book as "Muay Thai", a form of Martial Art perfected by Chinese Special Forces after Thailand's colonization by Chinese Forces. He had learned Chinese in San Francisco after making some sort of delivery to the Shi, a group of scientists that originated from a Chinese submarine.

The Courier automatically touched his wrist before realizing the damage done to his Pip-Boy. Cursing, he quickly unsheathed his signature obsidian Katana, while swiftly retrieving Li'l Devil from the pile of weapons. He quickly got into his own combat stance and activated the Riot's Ruin effect on his helmet. The scarlet red glow almost acting as if they were the eyes of a God of Death.

"You murderer. We just want Jaune back and you just need to turn yourself in. Nobody has to get hurt." The robed boy that Jaune recognized as Yatsuhashi calmly said, but he had failed to hide the thinly veiled contempt in his voice.

"Heh. You can have the kid. But what the fuck do you want me for?" The Courier shot back.

Jaune, who quickly noticed the hostility between the two parties, placed himself squarely between the two. Ignoring the sense of trepidation that threatened to swallow him whole.

"Stop! Please, you can with us to Beacon and you can… Uh. Sell some of your weapons?" Jaune dumbly finished.

The Courier gave him a deadpan look that seemed to reverberate through the whole forest. Almost as if asking, 'are you fucking retarded'.

"Uh. I mean. Well. I'm sure Professor Ozpin can explain everything to you!" Jaune exclaimed.

The Courier weighed his available options. He had once been captured by Legionnaires after a drunken bender with Raul. He had easily escaped captivity using his rigorous training on hand-to-hand combat, that and some very lucky interference by Boone but that was a moot point. He knew nothing of this Wasteland and when worse comes to worst he could utilize his noble art of bullshittery. If he didn't follow them, he'd end up with more enemies in an already unknown world. It was best to let this play out. After all, what could this Wasteland do to the man who had emptied out the Omertas, The White Glove Society, and the Chairmen. All in one night.

Dropping his Katana and Pistol. He didn't even blink when the fashionable brunette sauntered towards him and smacked her briefcase towards his head, taking him to the realm of his nightmares.

Ruby Rose ran through Beacon's prestigious halls like her life depended on it. She overheard from the Professors acting worried about "Team CVFY" and wondered if they might be coming back with the "Arc boy". She didn't understand, Velvet and Coco were some of the strongest fighters she knew in Beacon, not to mention that Fox and Yatsuhashi themselves were no slouches either. So, when she heard that a Bullhead containing the team was heading back she wasted no time and ran towards the docking bays.

Her team and team JNPR was right behind her almost losing the girl because of her near unmatchable speed. They were dead worried about Jaune, especially since the Professors themselves doubted his own survival. They feared for the worst, even Nora couldn't dispel the gloomy atmosphere. When they had arrived at the docking bays, they saw a crowd huddled about near a specific Bullhead. With Yang and Pyrrha at the helm, they pushed through most of the crowd. What they saw astounded them.

A full battalion of Atlesian troops and robots stood and aimed their rifles and weapons at the plane. They were led by what seemed to be a very high-ranking General. He wore a white overcoat, and a formal grey undercoat complemented by a black sweater and a red tie. His silver combat boots planted him firmly in front of the contingent. His clean-cut face settled into a frown.

The Bullhead's side doors opened as Team CVFY, accompanied by a sheepish looking Jaune Arc, came into view. He looked relieved yet his face was marred in strange concern. What was interesting however was the gurney that accompanied the two.

"You think they rescued someone from the forest?" Ruby said, her voice tinged with childlike concern. It was not uncommon for students to be injured while doing extra training in the forest.

"It's more likely that they captured someone from the terrorist, a White Fang Terrorist most probably. Dirty Faunus probably tried to kill Jaune." Weiss replied, her eyes looking at the gurney. On closer inspection revealing several straps holding the unknown individual in place.

The crowd parted like a sea, when the enigmatic headmaster, Ozpin accompanied by the stern and intimidating huntress, Glynda Goodwitch. Her eyes were settled into a perpetual frown that told students not to be foolish.

* * *

The hustle and bustle of the complex was a symphony of progress. Nora looked on with excitement as she read through the reports, in her office. The cool black leather of her seat gave her a feeling of comfort. After her speech, technicians, engineers, and scientists alike began to fix the disrepair evident in the facility. It was evident that Vault-Tec were the ones in charge of the whole operation. There was also mention in some of the terminals about a collaboration with something called a "Big MT" as numerous previously unknown technology began to make their way into the minds of the Institute scientists.

The entrance to the outside world was also discovered. It was the giant gear-shaped door that any Vault Dweller recognized and treated with either scorn or familiarity. Several Gen-1 Synths were sent out to retrieve samples. And lo and behold, the air outside was breathable for humans, which was analyzed from the data and samples retrieved from the synths. The flora and fauna recorded weren't different from the Pre-War Days. Yet, the creatures they had encountered were very much like what they had to fight earlier, they had seen more variations of those creatures that they had fought.

When she heard that, she immediately sent out several Coursers to explore and discover if civilization was nearby. And lo and behold they did. As protocol, they masked their presence and acted more of reconnaissance then ambassadors. The towns and cities they found were reminiscent of Asian culture and architecture. However, it appeared that some of the towns that they discovered were destroyed. Either by the typical problem of raiders and bandits or by those grotesque dark creatures that flooded the facility just a few days ago. The technology of this place was a strange fusion of electricity and something called "Dust". This unnerved Nora, a great deal. If "Dust" was anything like Oil then this whole world was destined for the Fallout.

Nora internally debated inside herself. She could keep their presence into this new world, a secret. Slowly but surely, she would transfer Wastelanders here, keeping their origins a secret, using some fabricated stories, false memories, and the occasional bribery/assassination. She would have to create several false fronts to receive the materials that she would require. Almost mimicking the ways of the Railroad. The downsides to this was that if any civilized government here found out what she was doing, they would react brutally at this mysterious and enigmatic force, not to mention that this would undoubtedly cause many of her more simpler companions to lose respect in her, if she was to fear some government, then why follow her?

Or she could go for bold and brave, by announcing her presence just as the Brotherhood of Steel did. With her brilliant tactics and leadership skills it would be a cakewalk to establish her own dominion in this new land and place. She had the Vertibirds, she had the men, and she had the resources. But just as the downside earlier, if it came to a war of attrition, then she would be in a severe disadvantage. History had proven that managing an empire wasn't as easy as it sounded. With problems in the Wasteland, and problems in this new world. Her Roman Empire would be split in half. And as history had been quick to show, it would be a slow and steady decline of her Government.

Aside from Preston, there was literally nobody who they could latch onto as a new figurehead. Preston was too dull to see the bigger picture, his strength lied in military and combat expertise. He had made use of extensive guerrilla warfare in the city, against the much more advanced Brotherhood and she had to give props that despite fighting against the Brotherhood, he had annihilated several raider gangs inside the city. Yet, when it came to economic and scientific matters, he was completely at a loss.

The Institute way was out of option. People hated things they could not understand. And seeing as the Institute's way of doing things was to kidnap people and replace them with robots which if revealed would spark an event like the Salem Witch Trials. Once the people found out about her, then the government or governments of this new land would undoubtedly unite to try and drive off this boogeyman from their land. She had no idea about the capability of this "Dust". If she would make the brutal mistake of underestimating its capabilities it would be the death of her empire and all her work.

Or, she grinned at this thought. She could reintroduce the Minutemen into this world. According to the Coursers, some of the towns were remote enough that they would undoubtedly be easy targets for raiders and other hostile threats. By getting the trust of these people, she could easily use some of her leadership and charisma to get them to accept "poor refugees" and establish an easily accessible trade system between her collection of settlements in Massachusetts and this place. But she would have to act as the head of an independent organization, not a government. She knew people like these prided themselves on independence, and that governments were a big no as they thought it degenerated their pride.

Production sites like farms, mines, factories. These would be within her grasp and they would be too busy looking at her with wide-eyed adoration to be suspicious of her motives. After all, if the farms would be used to defend other settlements. What reason would they have to doubt her?

In the end, she settled for a mix of her Railroad and Minutemen idea. Selected Wastelanders would be relocated here, under false backgrounds, origins, and memories if needed. After all, the Commonwealth was still home to plentiful technologies undiscovered. But not too much Wastelanders would be relocated as it would attract the suspicion of the Brotherhood spies back in the wastelands. She would lull these towns and settlements to agree with her ideals. Not so different from what she did in the Commonwealth. And as any good frontier, there would obviously be a black market for things like assassinations and espionage. Obviously bottle caps aren't exactly the ideal currency in a non-radioactive world, so she was bound to get her hands dirty, with this extra currency in hand they'll be able to obtain information and contacts. Very important tools in a war.

She gestured for the Mr. Handy to pass her a bottle of some bottle of Whisky. The robot obliged, as it immediately disappeared before returning. She let the cool amber fluid gently slide into her shot glass, her reflection momentarily stared back at her before with a swift and deft motion was swiftly destroyed as Nora let the cool and dignified taste of the drink flood her throat.

She stood up and strode confidently into the board room. It was a simple room located just near her office. After traversing through a few hallways and such, she ended up into the cold metallic room. In the center of the room laid a simple rectangular table, complete with six seats. The room was flanked by several coursers, who laid motionless and stoically. Their ballistic woven coats and highly-modded block-like Laser Rifles, reminded everyone who attended that Nora was the boss. She called for a board meeting using an intercom.

* * *

 **Just a reminder: *3 weeks before the arrival of the Courier***

The Lone Wanderer knew that he had done some things that could have been considered miraculous. He had once saved the entire town of Megaton by disarming the bomb, stone cold drunk. He had fallen from a roof and into a Super Mutant Behemoth and caused it to kill itself by using its own strength against it and lived to tell the tale. Hell, he entered the mouth of madness itself when venturing into the Dunwich Ruins, and he had done it when he had entered the Pitt. Yet this had to be one of the craziest schemes of all.

"You want me to distract a being that you yourselves admit is one of the oldest and most powerful here in this frozen wasteland. So, you guys can use an experimental aircraft that may or may not work to shoot it down? " The Lone Wanderer slowly said, each word registering themselves into his mind.

"Well when you put it like that it does sound stupid. But what other option do we got? Besides, you're the one who decided to scavenge from Atlesian property, so consider this as retribution. If you do this, then you won't be held before a military court and most likely imprisoned or shot to death for reason of espionage or theft of military equipment in accordance with Atlas Law. Besides my men have got their hands full if you haven't noticed." The Soldier with the Skull decals said as he gestured to a few of his fellow soldiers who were propped up in gurneys and the floor being taken care of by other less haggard but obviously still injured soldiers.

The Lone Wanderer frowned but it was covered by the balaclava. Laws meant civilization. That would mean this Wasteland had several civilizations if the threat of espionage was still a very real thing. Choosing his words wisely, "But I'm just a simple scavenger, I don't have the same skills as you guys do."

"Don't lie to me. Anybody who scavenges around here is probably familiar with the threats of the Grimm. You scavengers enter places seeping with the brutal scars and feelings from the Great War. Feelings like hatred from the damned, all those good vibes associated with war. So, don't weasel your way around this one. Leaving that aside, you're the only one aside from me that's particularly healthy. And since I know how to drive a Bullhead, you're shit out of luck." The Soldier practically growled out.

"What assurance can you give me that you won't just haul your men out of here and leave me to fight against a flying tank?" The Lone Wanderer retorted, ignoring the man's outburst.

"You don't. But either way, this is our best shot, even if I try to do that, then Sindragosa's bound to catch up to us." The man conceded before gesturing for an answer, he left out the fact that the nearest base was several hours away even with the speed of a Bullhead. He sighed and watched the confines of the hanger. There were a few ships, some which were just transport ships, they had several discernible weapons. Several miniguns mounted on the sides of the doors. While the Bullheads had several dust-enhanced missile launchers attached to the underside of the aircraft. However, there was one Bullhead that seemed different in design.

It was the Bullhead Mark II. It was in recent development in this outpost. Complete with several dust enhanced turrets, and utilizing some new form of dust-enhanced weaponry. Something called a "Tesla Cannon" which combined Electrical Dust with some form of crude energy battery. Either way this was still a prototype so he didn't know the exact specifics. This was classified information; therefore, the scavenger didn't need to know. What the scavenger also didn't need to know was that there was supposed to be an alarm system set in place for event like these.

Watcher's Front was the name of this place, and to his knowledge it was one of the farthest outposts from any of Atlas's cities. He had seen several strictly confidential technologies pass through here. And despite the higher-ups trying to squash the truth. He knew there was another base up North. One where all experimental technologies seemed to originate from. Robotics, experimental laser technology, anything that could get Atlas an edge technologically against the other kingdoms.

'Ah what the hell, I've been through worse.' The Wanderer thought. With a swift nod, he quickly armed himself with one of the high-powered assault rifles that he had commonly used back in D.C, the Xuanlong Assault Rifle. He saw what looked to be a facial expression of bewilderment from the soldiers, his tracking senses had caused him to hear muttered phrases of "Toy gun isn't going to stand a chance" or "We're all doomed". He exited the hangar, and after putting a reasonable distance between him and the hanger, surveyed his surroundings.

He could see the towering outline of some gargantuan animal step on a Quonset hut, smashing the thing into bits of salvaged metal, and he wasn't so naive to think that there had been no people there. The thing was gargantuan, with tusks and a complete set of bony protrusions going down up till his spine. It was awesome and majestic in its own way. It was a marvel in terms of size, no doubt it could topple the glorified antenna that was the Washington Monument with one hit from its tusks. Only to realize that it wasn't an outline but rather just a completely jet-black hide. He could see, packs of Yao Guai like creatures nearby. The creatures had the same bony protrusions and black fur. They had masks covering their faces, making a direct headshot not as lethal as it could be.

He muttered his favorite phrase. "I am Alpha and Omega, the beginning and the end. I will give unto him that is athirst of the fountain of the water of life, freely." His father was more of a hero than he ever could be, more than him, and certainly more than Maxon. Project Purity was his brainchild, Liam was only the enabler of his father's dreams. A dream which cost his life. And from this situation, it wouldn't be long until he would be next.

He raised his Xuanlong at the nearest bear, one which was eating some unfortunate man. He aimed it at the bear's head and watched with satisfaction as the mask itself was insufficient to shield the creature's face from a series of bullets. The pack of bears noticed him but by then it was too late, the Xuanlong worked its magic and he watched with satisfaction as the bullets tore through their hides like mincemeat. He reloaded, dematerializing his empty magazine for later use. He made quick work of several other packs who were attracted by the sound of gunfire, never really wasting ammo as bullets to the face were an easy solution.

The dragon was still nowhere in sight, but the roar he had heard earlier was unmistakable. Perhaps, it had left them alone? But just to be sure, he had decided to go and find the armory of this place, extra munitions would be welcome. It was only until now that he had noticed that the snow had drastically increased. Because of the blizzard or Sindragosa, or maybe a combination of both.

Time in Anchorage had certainly given him much needed experience in Cold-Weather Warfare. He materialized some snowshoes left over from the armory, after getting through those grueling months in Anchorage. It made the trek much easier.

The Military Complex wasn't that large, so he didn't need to search much to find the armory building. It was protected by a security door with a much more advanced terminal to its side. The Wanderer praised his lucky stars, he wasn't much of a lockpick expert. In the Vault, he had much more experience hacking through Security Terminals, which quickly escalated into hacking through ZAX supercomputers in Point Lookout. With a clear and focused drive, it didn't take him long to unlock the door. He needed some explosives if he were to attract the attention of a dragon.

Entering, he immediately regretted his actions as alarm bells began to ring. The red lights blared not only in the armory but throughout the entire compound. Of course, it had to be this way, he unhooked the Xuanlong as he heard the familiar mechanical monotone of robots blare out from inside the armory.

"GRIMM DETECTED, LETHAL FORCE AUTHORIZED." A particularly large robot seemed to boom from inside the armory. It also didn't help that he noticed more and more of those creatures began to whine and howl as he heard the unmistakable sound of gunshots. He smirked thinking some good came out of this. But as a missile blew through the walls of the armory, revealing a particularly large robot. It looked like a weapon which was supposed to be manually controlled, as there was a cockpit. Yet the weapons were no doubt capable of shredding him in his current Combat Armor to Swiss Cheese. So, doing the wisest course of action he immediately took cover as the enormous robot opened fire, no doubt reducing him to pieces if he had stayed in his earlier position.

Several of those Deathclaw look-a-likes didn't stand a chance as he could see hordes of them being mowed to bits, the bears seemed to fair better yet it was utterly useless as the robot didn't even need to move. The mindless creatures coming at in droves and hordes. The robot seemed fully capable of destroying all of them. However, he heard gigantic footsteps. It was the same mammoth like creature he had seen earlier. The thing rushed, priming its tusks to fully impale the robot and destroying it.

The robot let loose a missile that would have destroyed a lesser creature's face yet the mammoth didn't stop its advantage. But amidst the chaos, he didn't fail to notice the human like robots that seemed to have taken on the task of fighting the lesser black creatures.

'Maybe we might just have a chance'. The Wanderer thought.

That moment was cut short. From the distance, ever drawing closer was a dragon. Its mighty wings beating against the harsh climate of the storm. Commanding the very essence of nature to its will.

He watched with awe and dread as the mighty creature roared, it's mighty cry seemed to be a harbinger of calamity. Even from below, he could see it. Bone plated scales covered most of his hide, yet his underbelly was less protected yet there still traces of bone-plates that made it no easy target. Its baleful fiery red eyes were visible and highlighted because of the snowstorm. Its deafening cry was answered by the hordes of creatures surrounding the complex as several howls chorused throughout the place. Bloodlust and scorn evident. It was almost deafening to listen to. Its size was larger than anything he had ever seen. It was obviously bigger than a Behemoth and he doubted that he registered as a threat in its eyes.

He felt a slight shiver travel up his spine, a feeling that he had long thought disappeared into the deepest recesses of his mind. It was present when he was a child, it haunted him when he fought against the Tunnel Snakes, it had coated him when the Vault went on lockdown, it paralyzed him when the Capitol Wasteland was revealed to him in all its radioactive summer. It hadn't come back since then, but the slight feeling wasn't so imperceptible as he liked. He realized for once in his long Wasteland years, that he began to feel fear.

* * *

 **A.N: Oh boy. Can't wait to see what happens next! Hehe. Which side should I focus more on? Our Mailman? Our Favorite Narcissistic Leader? Or perhaps the guy sandwiched between a dragon and an Atlesian Paladin?**


	7. Chapter 7: New Beginnings

**A.N: Yo-ho-ho and a Bottle of Grimm! *Coughs* Anyway. Hope you guys enjoy this new chapter. I'm trying to avoid being a sporadic writer as of now. Hehehe. But boi, am I hyped for October 15. A shame that I have a slightly advanced time zone. Oh, and boi oh boi, point out any errors, provide constructive criticism, or just say random stuff at the review section of this.**

* * *

 **Chapter VII: New Beginnings**

* * *

Liam knew the odds were against him. He was sandwiched between a giant robot that had the firepower of at least a dozen Sentry Bots, and Sindragosa, a dragon, if the Soldier earlier was to be believed, that had the ability and strength to wipe out several military bases on its own. Coupled with the fact that he was caught in the chaos of hordes of black creatures battling with the Robots. Well, one might say he was shit out of luck.

He glanced out of his cover, a pile of metallic crates bearing the symbol of what he recognized from the Vault's books, as a "Snowflake", and the words "Schnee Dust Company".

The gigantic robot was caught in a brutal stalemate with the Mammoth. By that point both the mammoth and the robot had moved from their previous spots. With the tusks of the Mammoth pinning the robot's arms in place, almost tearing it apart preventing it from unleashing its miniguns. The robot on the other hand, valiantly kept kicking the Mammoth at its underbelly. At this rate, the robot would be in no shape to even be a cause for concern towards Sindragosa.

His vision was obscured as the blizzard intensified as the dragon itself drew closer high above. It had gotten to the point where even his heightened senses began to fail him, as he could barely see beyond the snow. This was such a Far Cry compared to the type of heavy urban fighting he was accustomed to.

The Wanderer was alerted by noises nearby and saw a group of humanoid androids gun down a few of the Deathclaw like creatures which he had taken to calling Wolfmen, this moment of triumph was quickly shattered as another creature entered the scene. It walked on bipedal feet, yet the way it carried itself suggested not a man but rather something animalistic. Its skin was covered by black fur. It let loose a mighty roar and grabbed one of the androids before unceremoniously snapping it in half.

The thing reminded him of something from those Pre-War books. Some form of creature living in the mountains of a place called the Himalayas, a Yeti. He was always known to be a bit of a geek, probably why nobody expected him to turn into an efficient murderer by the time he came back.

The remaining androids tried to shoot it in retaliation but it only seemed to make it angrier as it swatted one of them aside, causing the unfortunate robot to deactivate in a flash of sparks as it hit one of the buildings with a mighty thud.  
The remaining ones didn't stand a chance as the beast tore through them with ease.

It let out a cry of savage victory, as more of them poured into the scene. They easily served as backup for the damaged numbers of the Wolfmen and Yao Gais. They proceeded to stampede towards the damaged gigantic robot and began to savagely beat at its legs. The humanoid robots did little to quell their numbers as the other creatures of darkness cowed submissively under the Yetis.

The creatures began a blitz tactic as the robots were overwhelmed with the sheer numbers. The gunfire staved off more than a few yet no matter how many fell it appeared that they were innumerable and immeasurable.

Liam cursed as he saw one of the Yetis glance at his direction and roared. He scrambled over his feet and vaulted over the crates. He ran towards the section of the Armory walls that was destroyed by the Giant Robot. He was followed by what seemed to be a pack of Wolfmen as the sounds of howls and snarls alerted him, yet as he glanced back, he observed one of the Yetis throw one of those SDC crates towards him.

He doubled his sprint and made inside the building just in time, as an explosion decimated the Wolfmen pack chasing him. He grimaced in slight horrification as he realized his death could have easily been taking cover behind explosives of all things.

The Wanderer didn't take any chances as he looked at where he was. The Gigantic Robot carved a path through several rooms. He followed the path of broken walls and was eventually lead to a treasure trove.

He watched in awe as several as he saw weapon lockers all laid out nice and neat. Assault Rifles, shotguns, swords, and even grenades were strewn across. Some of the grenades were color-coded. He whistled at that, this group was technologically advanced to create cryogenic grenades and weaponry.

A few of the lockers also contained one of those combat suits the soldiers in the compound wore. He debated if it was more effective than his own combat armor but didn't want to take a risk as he was more accustomed to his Winterized Combat Armor.

To his surprise there were no normal grenades around. Rather he found a few flares and a flare gun.

'Now for the finishing touch' The Wanderer thought as he saw the shining materialization in front of him.

And there it stood in all its pre-war marvel. Complete with a poly-laminate composite for the torso and legs and bulletproof slits for the helmet. It was fully capable of turning him into a walking avatar of death. Hell, with the hydraulic systems assisting him, he could have been stronger than Fawkes when drugged out on Buffout.

Easily, he slid into the familiar interior of the armor. His Pip-boy hooked up into the mainframe of the armor. He internally thanked the creators for the heating system set in place. Power Armor wasn't much of an incredible asset if your soldiers died of frostbite inside a walking tank.

"Soldier! You are in direct possession of United States Military property! Get ready to send those Commie Bastards right down to hell" a booming voice made its way into the Wanderer's ears as he groaned.

He had hooked up an AI unit he had found in another Power Armor Suit somewhere in the Enclave's Mobile Crawler. It seemed a good idea at the time, as it allowed him a direct HUD interface during battle, and with a little bit of tinkering he had found a way to plug in the Pip-Boy's Adapter plug with the armor itself. Thereby rendering the HUD to fully showcase his available inventory, and to materialize all while using Voice Command. Downside was that he had to deal with a goddamned Mr. Gutsy as a constant companion.

"Where are we Soldier? This doesn't look like the concrete jungle of our glorious Nation's Capital? HAVE WE BEEN CAPTURED BY THOSE DAMNED REDS?!"

"No. We're in… Anchorage, Alaska. General Chase wants us prepped and ready by a few minutes. I want a full-on diagnostic check before we go in there and bust in some heads." The Wanderer said lamely hoping it was enough to convince the overzealous AI.

He had fully modified the damn armor so much to the point where even the Citadel's Paladins had looked on his Power Armor with jealousy. He had modded several Ballistic Fists into the armor, the pressure plate trigger that could be activated/deactivated around his knuckles. His kicks were no less deadly, as he had modded explosive vents into the thing.

It made a nice day to use his jetpack and drop down into the middle of a raider fortress. But that was a time of the past.

"BALISTIC BRACERS, OPERATING AT MAXIMUM CAPACITY. HUD IS FULLY PREPPED. JETPACK, OPTIMIZED. COMMUNIST KILLING MODE: ENGAGED."

He stepped back into the frozen wasteland. The giant robot from earlier was surprisingly still active, its arms were barely hanging on yet they still functioned. The Mammoth laid dead at beneath it. It stood tall and proud over the large corpse which began to evaporate into mist. Yet it was alone, robot carcasses were strewn all over the place. And the nearest gunshots were far and faint.

What was strange however was that the creatures were keeping a reasonable distance from the robot. It was then and only then; the whole thing was over.

Mighty wings came into view as Sindragosa landed. It towered over anything in the landscape. Its mouth letting loose an icy torrent that seemed to have damaged the huge robot. The robot activated its missile systems, as rockets flew and exploded as it reached the dragon. The Dragon arched its head back before a great stream of azure flames caused them all to blow up.

The giant robot leaped forward, squashing a few wolfmen as its legs ran across the snow. Sindragosa, didn't need to do a thing. Its tail smacked the machine into a nearby building. And before it could recover, the dragon drew its head back and let the blue flames devour the robot.

To the Wanderer's shock, the robot was out of the count. A wisp of smoke blew upwards, where it lied. It was here that Sindragosa glanced at the grizzled Wastelander. For a second, it almost looked amused. It glanced at the mob of creatures and gestured its head towards the Wanderer, in a strange gesture of intelligence.

Yetis stampeded ahead. One of them tried to punch the Wanderer. The Wanderer curled up his hand into a fist and watched with mild satisfaction as it connected with the yeti's. Metal and flesh met, and the yeti's arm was dismembered into a shower of gore as the Power Armor's wrist-mounted shotgun worked its magic. He kicked another one in the chest, resulting in it being blown back by a combination of explosives, and power armor enhanced strength.

More and more beasts tried to swarm him. Yet it did no good. The older creatures ran away. A basic survival instinct honed over decades and years. The younger ones, with no disregard for their lives served as cannon fodder for the Wanderer.

"HA HA! Nothing like killing some of these Commie-infected animals. Anchorage is as good as ours!" The Power Armor said enthusiastically, as the Wanderer elbowed a Wolfman in the face before finishing it off with an explosive uppercut.

Sindragosa roared in response. Liam got into his fighting stance. If someone had told him that back in the Vault that he'd end up fighting a dragon with explosive gauntlets. He would have laughed at their face and hacked Vault Security terminals to detain them on measure of insanity. All activity ceased as the dragon took flight and casted the Wanderer in its fiery breath, no consideration for its comrades was given as Wolfmen and Yao Guai froze.

The Wanderer felt a foreign sensation. It felt as though he was on fire, which the Power Armor mitigated to an effect but it still stung like a bitch, yet he couldn't deny the chill that came with it. He rushed forward to punch Sindragosa, yet the dragon's tail collided with him first. He was flown straight back into a wall. The sheer impact caused cracks in the walls to appear. Sindragosa got ready to blast fire forward yet again.

"Engage drug pumping system. Replace air filter with Jet and increase Psycho and Buffout injections" The Wanderer muttered.

"Engaged. Taste the wrath of some good old American Psycho, you commie loving dragon!" The AI shouted as needles dispensed hooked up on the Wanderer's veins.

Time slowed to a crawl as the Wanderer breathed in and felt that familiar high, with a boosted speed, he closed the distance between the dragon, while avoiding its flames. He ended up right in its underbelly. His fist connected with its bony plates as he kept up the pressure. It seemed to do little damage to the beast itself as explosion after explosion failed to penetrate the plates. Themselves. Even as both the Buffout and Psycho were pumped into his blood, all the while.

With a cry of frustration, the Wanderer threw one last punch before the Jet inhaler ran out of fumes. His efforts came into fruition, as the Dragon made a cry of pain. It used its head to try and devour the Wanderer, yet he dodged just in time. He punched Sindragosa in the face.

Sindragosa, flapped its heavy wings and relied on his azure flame breath. The Wanderer, smirked and was about to activate his jetpack yet he saw Sindragosa do something he didn't expect. A black-tarlike substance dripped from where he damaged the dragon and he saw it literally form some sort of bird, all while freefalling from mid-air. The birds reminded him of an ancient Greek myth, Griffons. The creatures dove towards him in some sort of suicide charge.

He punched one of the griffons in the face as it taught to swallow him whole. It was almost comic to imagine him being swallowed whole. Sindragosa assisted its brethren by releasing more and more of them. It had gotten to the point where for each griffon, he took down. Two more came to take its place.

"Materialize the flare gun, now!" The Wanderer shouted as he grabbed the wing of a griffon, and separated it from its owner.

He felt his hand grip something and he wasted no time in shooting it in the sky. Time would tell if the soldier made his promise.

Sindragosa detected his tiredness as it dove downwards while spraying him and the griffons with its azure flames. The griffons froze almost instantly. It was almost like a flaming blue spear crashing towards him. The Wanderer realized that Sindragosa would literally crush him with its sheer weight.

He tried to get out of the flames but the Dragon kept diving down faster. It would have been futile to move. Even his Power Armor couldn't stop the burning agony and burns that made their way into his skin. The fire felt as though it was trying to not only extinguish his life but also his very soul.

"So, this is how I go? Crushed to death by an overweight lizard." The Wanderer muttered as the same familiar chill intensified. He couldn't even feel his legs and even his hands felt oddly numb. A soul crushing despair made itself evident on his mind. 'Heh. Frozen to death in a strange place. This is what I get for trying to be a hero' the Wanderer thought. Yet one thought gave him hope.

He gritted his teeth and willed his feet to move. He dove away from the icy blast. It would have been selfish to die here, his father died for a noble cause, Sarah Lyons died saving the Brotherhood's best hope. He'd be damned if he died for nothing.

Sindragosa, exhibiting great maneuvering skills easily stopped itself before it could crash into the snow. It stood tall and proud in the sky, like royalty above everything else.

It was then that a great beam of orange in the sky and hit the Dragon right at its neck. It roared with intense fury as it fell to the ground. The Wanderer squinted and sighed with relief.

"Looks like Cavalry's here." The Wanderer said gratefully as the sleek white ship he had seen the Soldier gesture to earlier came into view. But one thought nagged at him, that energy beam looked like something he had seen back at the Wasteland. But what weapon?

"Front and Center! Ha! Looks like it's not the Year of the Dragon after all!" The Power Armor's AI chuckled which elicited a groan from the Wanderer.

Sindragosa crashed into a building, sending smoke and rubble everywhere. The Wanderer froze as he still saw stirring from the rubble. A torrent of Ice Spikes burst forth from the dust and impacted the VTOL in the sky. At that amount it would have been a miracle for no heavy damage to have occurred.

To his surprise the aircraft remained yet a blizzard occurred yet again as a roar was heard. A flock of birds and griffins suddenly burst forth from where the Dragon crashed and began to attack the sole aircraft. The aircraft began to disappear but not before shooting another beam of light towards Sindragosa. One which caught the dragon by its side. Tearing off a huge chunk of its black body.

Fatigue welled over the Wanderer. The drugs were starting to give way. The long trek to this base had drained him and despite all his conditioning, mowing down all those creatures took a toll on his body.

Sindragosa seemed more than eager to finish him off right then and there as it stepped away from the rubble. Its blood red eyes, showing its insatiable hunger. Hungry creatures came to watch him, yet he paid them no mind. This was between him and Sindragosa. Power Armor or no. It would kill him, if he didn't kill it first.

"Why won't you just die?!" His voice was thick with rage as he brought his fists back up.

This discourse was ended, as a flock of white creatures began to attack Sindragosa. The Wanderer stared dumbfounded as snow white griffons and birds began their attacks. Another ship came from the sky. It looked to be a small X-shaped transport ship, flanked by a group of those similarly colored VTOL aircrafts.

Sindragosa casted the Wanderer a malevolent glare as it took off into the skies. He saw the ships began to land near the area and letting loose an entourage of those robots. He saw the mindless dark creatures begin to fall in droves. Hope filled his heart, as his knees buckled.

"Dematerialize the Power Armor." The Wanderer muttered, drowsiness plaguing his vision. A bright glow surrounded him, before his knees crumpled, leaving him asleep in the cold snow.

* * *

The first thing that told the Wanderer he was alive was the uncomfortable sensation in his skin, if this was Heaven, then God surely had a strange way of giving first impressions. The second thing was the slight beeping of several machines near him.

His eyes were blurred and he could still hear faint ringing in his ears, yet despite that his back felt soothed. It was almost as if he was in the comforts of cotton. He blinked, and tried to get out from his bed but his aching muscles refused to heed his order. He glanced down at his own body and was surprised that his arms and legs were wrapped in bandages. His pip-boy was still in view, something he was thankful for. Not that anyone could steal it, it was basically keyed into his genetic code. He was dressed in a neat white hospital gown.

There were several medical tools beside him such as an IV drip that was right beside him along with several other complex unrecognizable machines. He took in his surroundings and saw that he was in a quaint white hospital room. He noticed a door nearby and sighed.

His breathing became ragged as he realized. This civilization was already in the technological capacity of the Pre-War world. He had seen their humanoid robots, and although he knew that the Institute's "Synths" were far more superior, it showed a level of industry unlike anything in the Wastes. Their ships were very much Enclave level technology. He knew that hoarding technology from the populace was a suicidal move in the grand scheme of things but if things went on like this, then the Great War would have itself a younger counterpart, with this Civilization becoming the cause of it all.

The door opened revealing a clean-cut young man with a doctor's coat. His hair was well-groomed, and his smooth black slacks strengthened his image as a respectable doctor. His face was sculpted into a warm smile, and his nametag read him as "Dr. Ryder Gold."

"Ah. You're finally awake! Captain Silver sure spoke highly of you. Personally, I'm surprised that you're alive at all. Most soldiers that face Sindragosa don't come out alive. Much less receive minor injuries and save the survivors of a Grimm infested base. Mr.?"

"Daniels, and what can I say I'm a lucky scavenger." The Wanderer replied.

"Mr. Daniels. What you did was nothing short of miraculous. A routine scan from our scrolls discovered that you do not contain any aura. Cpt. Silver is a good friend of mine. He survived the plane crash earlier, so I thank you for saving him but our superiors would like to ask you a few questions nonetheless."

The Wanderer nodded. If this was the Enclave. he would have woken up strapped to a chair inside a torture chamber. He had to remain calm. Doctor Gold gave him another wide smile before he opened the door.

Warning bells rang across the Wanderer's head as a man stepped inside the room. His posture screamed authority, it reminded him of Maxon. He wore a white overcoat with a gray undercoat, black sweater, accentuating a red necktie. His hands laid neatly by his side, each being covered by white gloves. The Wanderer knew that despite this, the man was obviously hiding some form of weapon.

He was accompanied by what looked to be the most beautiful woman, he had ever seen. Her grey eyes looked at him with a hint of curiosity and suspicion but otherwise betrayed nothing important. She wore attire a white coat with a red brooch. Streaks of silver hair were tucked away by her ears. The hair itself was neatly tied into a bun. A rapier hung by its side, and he didn't fail to notice her hand fall by its hilt.

The message was clear enough. Not only that but he could make out the faint silhouettes of several soldiers by the door.

"Ah, so you're the Scavenger that I've been hearing so much about. It's a pleasure to meet you. The soldiers told me what you did, and I'd like to thank you personally for saving the lives of my men." The man who looked to be the leader said with a warm smile as he shook the Wanderer's hand with a firm handshake.

"No, it wasn't a problem at all sir. In fact, I should be apologizing. I tried my luck scavenging around the area. I don't think I've met you before Mr.?" The Wanderer replied hoping that his Scavenger persona was working.

The silver haired woman frowned, and her grip on the hilt became stronger, While the man seemed to tense up.

"General Ironwood, of the Atlesian Military. That's a strange computer you have on your hand, isn't it? Mr.?" The General said with none of the previous warmth present in his voice.

The Wanderer widened his eyes at the name, as his eyes bore into the General's as the tension in the room drastically increased. To his credit, Doctor Gold made himself scarce with only a slight hand signal from the Woman.

"Daniels. Liam Daniels." The Wanderer responded coldly.

"Well Mr. Daniels I'm sure you want questions after what you've just been through." The General said placatingly.

"Oh yes, being strapped to a gurney and waking up in a strange aircraft is certainly liable to cause people to ask questions." The Wanderer bit back dryly.

The General visibly flinched but his face remained resolute. He nodded to the Woman and she sighed. The General retrieved some folders from his coat and handed them over to the Wanderer.

The Wanderer's blood ran cold as he accepted the folder. There were two distinguishable features, written in big red bold print were the words "Project Remnant" and underneath it, were 13 stars accentuated with red and blue colors.

It was an incredibly detailed document, it highlighted blueprints of several military complexes and bunkers. It delved into experimental teleportation technology, molecular scanners, atomic relays, the best technology of the time. It detailed the uses of rockets and ships such as the Hermes-13 and Repconn rockets. He flipped page after page, his mind absorbing all this information.

"The United States Space Administration has discovered a planet with a close if not the exact biosphere of our planet. Considering this new information, the Federal Government of the United states of America is diverting a large amount of funding in the hopes that this will be humanity's home in the coming future. Global war is on an imminent scale and the Chinese threat is not likely to stop. Planet KB-540 is to be given the codename of Remnant. The primary goal of this objective is to provide America a new home after ashes." The Wanderer said, his eyes widening with every word.

"We found you knocked out in one of the places described in those files. You were in of their designated "Molecular Relays", one of the teleportation devices detailed in those folders. Skeletons were present throughout the whole base, probably killed by the Grimm. You were the only one alive. The question is, Mr. Daniels. Who are you? Depending on your answer we may need to have you court martialed and shot." Ironwood asked.

The Wanderer ran the possibilities through his head. He knew next to nothing about this Wasteland. IF this WAS a Wasteland. He could just be in Alaska but the things didn't add up. Dissolving creatures? Dragons? As far as he knew Alaska was a radioactive hellhole where Hell and Ice met together. It could be that he was in another country or even continent. Yet Antarctica was out of the question, the whole continent probably ceased to exist either due to the Great War or the warfare that occurred when oil fields were discovered there.

Europe was a vague possibility since these people hadn't questioned him about America, but it could have been that they mistook him for a spy. It was better to be honest. He was a soldier not a spy. He was always a terrible liar. Or maybe, just maybe he was in that "Remnant" place.

"I'm from America. Or at least what's left of it. What is this place." The Wanderer said.

The Wanderer didn't' even flinch when they gave him appraising looks, he hadn't lied and he would stick by the truth.

"If what you're saying is true, what do you mean by "What's left of it?" Ironwood asked even though he himself knew the answer.

"Exactly what it means General. The Whole country's nothing but dust and ash. A fleeting and vague notion about a group which caused the hellhole we live in today. Now it's nothing but a host for rubble and the humans who survived the Great War. Now answer MY question." The Wanderer spat out.

Ironwood frowned before conceding, a little history lesson wasn't exactly very informative if this was just a spy.

"You're currently in a hospital in the City of Mantle, former capital of the Kingdom of Atlas. Special Operative Winter Schnee over here was the one who recovered you after your fight from Sindragosa." Ironwood said formally as he gestured to the woman next to him.

"Thank you Ms. Schnee, I'm in your debt. And I'm sorry General but those names don't ring a bell at all." The Wanderer smiled apologetically.

Ironwood slightly frowned. Was this man truly one of those "Americans"? If so, then may be the key to improving Atlas.

"If you're truly an American, may I see some proof?" The General shot back.

The Wanderer sighed as he gingerly pressed a few buttons on his Pip-Boy. A brief flash of green right beside the Wanderer's bed, momentarily blinded the occupants of the room but it didn't prevent Winter from drawing her rapier at a moment's notice and placing it in the Wanderer's neck, causing a slight prick on the skin and trickle of blood to flow out.

They looked over and saw a pile of books right beside the Wanderer. Winter withdrew the rapier and sheathed it. Her stoic face contorted into an apologetic look. The General also gave the Wanderer an apologetic smile.

"The 13 Commonwealths: A brief history, Red Menace, Wasteland Survival Guide." The General said as he picked up the dusty books one by one.

"Now do you believe me?" The Wanderer muttered.

The General gave him a reluctant nod. Most of those "American" facilities they had discovered were of a much more militant nature, they barely held anything relevant as to how American culture and history were, and the few that did were mainly books about detailing the Sociopolitical and geopolitical climate at the time. They were fascinating for many of Vytal's most esteemed and expert historians and archaeologists, as they managed to gleam out several possible hypotheses about those mysterious civilizations and yet without a firsthand account, that was all they were.

"Well sit down, because I've got a story to tell. And like many good stories. Heh. Well, we have to start from the beginning."

* * *

Captain Robert Joseph MacCready's duster fluttered across the cool fresh air. Evergreen trees dominated his vision as he and a team of Coursers walked across a beaten hiking path. The Coursers kept him on his guard, despite Nora's insistence that they wouldn't put a bullet on his back. It was hard for him to fathom how his life went from being a normal merc to one of the personal agents of the woman who had brought the Commonwealth to her heel.

They had arrived at their destination and as Nora predicted fire and smoke were visible all over the village. Wasting no time, the fireteam made their way into the village. With his hunting rifle on hand, and a magnum and combat knife holstered he stepped into the village.

It was utter pandemonium, creatures that he had only read about in storybooks back in Little Lamplight became reality. Black werewolves, and yao guias began their carnage. He and the Coursers made short work of the creatures. Years of Wasteland training and Institute programming proved to be too much for the mindless creatures. Civilians began to flock to them, and MacCready had to be on double guard

They carved a path through what looked to the town's center. MacCready smirked as one of his .308 rounds dug into one of those Wolfmen atop the building's rooftops. The Coursers were supplied with ballistic weapons, riot shotguns, marksman carbines. High-end and top shelf guns, blueprints and manufactured through information hacked from the Prydwen. Nora didn't want to risk the knowledge of the oh-so-mighty Energy Weapons falling into public knowledge of the people in this world.

He flinched at the memory of the Prydwen. He doubted that anyone in the Commonwealth hadn't seen that ship go down. It was a symbol of sorts, no matter who or what stood in their way, the Institute would rule. But Nora wasn't all that bad, she had given Duncan a home in Sanctuary Hills, the safest residential district in all the Commonwealth. He was there, safe with other children and protected by turrets, synths, and had fresh water and electricity. Even if he were to die, Nora would take care of him.

"I seem to detect the sounds of noncombatants inside that Church." One of the Coursers said, as they began to clear out more and more creatures.

MacCready nodded and he knocked at the large wooden doors of the cathedral. The Coursers were behind him, making sure that none of the creatures would slaughter them in masse.

"W-who are you?" Asked the man who opened the door, he looked haggard. He had a chestplate on him and wore a short-sleeved gray and black jacket with yellow trim. His hands were clutching what seemed to have been a grey and white scoped-assault rifle. This guy was obviously part of the defense of this town, too bad he was failing miserably at his job.

MacCready peered over the man's shoulders and saw crowds of hungry and terrified people. Normally, he wouldn't have given a single shit about any of them. The people in the Wastes had it way worse than this, but as he saw children huddled around near their parents, and the hopeless and almost resigned body language of said parents, well it wouldn't hurt to be a bit like Preston for a minute or two.

"The name's Joseph MacCready, and we're the Minutemen. Protecting people in a minute's notice. We're a fairly new organization so I doubt you've heard of us." He nearly rolled his eyes at those words. God, Preston made such a big deal o

And at that moment, he could feel the looks the people were giving him. All of it nearly made him puke, but the smiles on the children's faces was worth it.

* * *

The Courier's eyes fluttered open and he blinked haphazardly as a blinding light overwhelmed his senses. He felt as if he was strapped to something and it didn't take long to recognize that it was a gurney. He was still in his Elite Riot Gear, and that was something he would thank his lucky stars for. Struggling against the tight grip of the gurneys, he noticed that he didn't have any of his weapons

Calming down, he realized that he was in a clinic. Still, that could mean another group of mad scientists hellbent on trying to plug his brain into a maniacal toaster. The place was pure white, almost like the hospitals of old. Even NCR and FoTA institutions didn't even hold a candle as to what he was seeing. He could spot several Androids by his bedside, unmoving and with some pretty nice rifles.

'God. Am I dealing with another egomaniacal multi-millionaire?' The Courier thought as he watched his lack of heartbeat over the monitor. That heart of his was a weakness, especially when you've got giant wasps capable of killing you in seconds.

A door opened and a man stepped in. He wore a suit and carried himself the same way Joshua Graham and Ulysses did. A posture that spoke of regret, acceptance, yet a clear drive for something. His hair was white although he barely looked elderly. Clutched in his hands was a simple cane, yet the Courier's perception could see the faint outline of a hilt. The man's brown eyes had no trouble facing his Riot's Glare, something which surprised the Wanderer. It spoke volumes of this man, he was not afraid of the Courier and he seemed to be capable of combat.

"I see that you have awaken, Mr.?" The man's voice was sophisticated and calm.

"Just call me the Courier, or Mailman. But I much prefer Six." The Courier shrugged, or at least tried to.

The man gave a slight 'hmm' and replied "Well Mr. Six. I am Professor Ozpin of Beacon Academy. You were the one responsible for the destruction of a camp somewhere in the Emerald Forest and you took one of my students hostage. Am I correct?"

'Well this guy's as blunt as a Super Sledge.' The Courier thought.

"So that camp belonged to you? Huh. Saves me the trouble of finding you. So, this is what schools are teaching these days, killing noncombatants? And what about that blonde kid from earlier you're going to execute him too?" The Courier spat out.

"Calm down Mr. Six. I'm merely confirming if you were responsible for the destruction of that camp. That was the property of a very dangerous terrorist group. And Mr. Arc is not facing any reprimands in fact he's now with his teammates and is currently safe and unharmed. In fact, I came here personally to thank you for it although you were in fact the one who caused him all that distress, nonetheless you saved him against the Grimm. I suppose you are a bit confused right now." Ozpin conceded.

"You got that right, confused is the understatement of the century." The Courier replied.

"You are currently in Beacon Academy, in the Kingdom of Vale."

The Courier stared blankly at the man. Vale? Beacon? What were those. Maybe he was in Kansas?

Ozpin coughed and said "I understand your confusion. Let me guess you're from some faraway place called "America". Am I right?"

"Eh. We're not in America right now?" The Courier replied eyebrows raised.

"No."

"Europe."

"No."

"China."

"No."

"India, Chicago, China, Japan… No, we're in Russia." The Courier babbled. His mind was muddled.

"I'm afraid all of those guesses were wrong Mr. Six. You are currently in Remnant."

"Is that a country I've never heard about?" The Courier asked, although he was pretty sure in his gut that he knew the most outlandish answer was the most likely to be the correct one.

"Remnant, I'm afraid is not a country nor a continent. It is in fact an entire world." Ozpin replied apologetically.

'Fuck logic. Looks like I'm not in Kansas.' The Courier thought, had he succumbed to a powerful Jet hallucination? Did the brains of the Big MT really fuck it up this bad? Or was this man just lying to him? He internally chucked as he realized that the odds of it being a fuck-up were astronomically higher than the man lying to his face. Or maybe, just maybe the guy didn't know that Earth was in fact called Earth. But he doubted it.

"Allow me to explain." Ozpin smiled politely.

"Well you're not going to be doing any worthwhile explanation while I'm stuck in this gurney." The Courier said. Strapped to a gurney did not exactly spell good intentions.

Ozpin smiled as if he was expecting those words and the Courier watched as the enigmatic man withdrew his cane in an almost supersonic speed. The straps went off without a hitch.

"Better?"

"Much. Thank you." The Courier replied as he rubbed his arms in irritation as he stood up. They didn't take away his "Lucky" .357 which remained in his duster. He'd be spelling his own demise if he didn't have any weapon. Space-Age armor or no.

He quickly withdrew it, aiming it at Ozpin but at the second he did that, he felt something in his neck. This Ozpin character was faster than that damned redheaded ass that had left him for dead along with his Pip-Boy. They both were capable of ending each other's lives. An ivory revolver planted squarely in Ozpin's silver hair and a sharp blade pressing against the Wanderer's jugular.

"Look Mr. Ozpin. Everyone in this place except that Jaune kid has been attempting to kill me or knock me out so you better have some good answers because I am close to snapping. So, stop it with your cryptic and nonsensical explanations. You clearly assessed me as a threat, hence the weapon. It didn't take long to figure out that you weren't part of the camp. But considering that a gorgeous blonde did try to capture me just a day ago and you coincidentally didn't mention it, well it's not spelling too good for you." The Courier said irritation evident.

To his credit, Ozpin remained calm and said. "Please holster your gun, Mr. Six. The reason why I had to cut you from your bonds was not out of malice. I just cannot risk any of the Medical Staff getting injured or worse because of you. While yes, I did get Ms. Goodwitch to try and retrieve you, the arrival of a certain visitor threw that plan into disarray. But please refrain from calling her gorgeous in the coming future." He finished that with a hint of amusement.

The Courier sighed as he laid the gun down. This place was truly messing with his head. Two days in and he was already involved with what seemed to be a faction. Ozpin returned the favor by withdrawing his cane. He grabbed a seat and sat down while Courier sat on his gurney.

"Assuming what you're saying is true and that I am indeed from a different world. Might I kindly see evidence?" The Courier muttered.

Ozpin gave a smile as he nodded. He grabbed his scroll and gave a full view of the City of Vale. Despite the mask and armor he could tell that Six was astonished at the landscape that was before him. Automobiles, aircraft, and even boats. Buildings that were clean and well-maintained. Hell, he could see that a fucking bar looked cleaner than the entire Ultra-Lux. It was enough to get him to believe the possibility. The whole city was bigger than Shady Sands and Redding combined. The whole city looked just as big as the Boneyard back in California.

"Maybe this is just a place where the bombs never fell?" Six said recalling Zion's breathtaking beauty. Yet he couldn't deny it, even underneath all that beauty there were always hints of the brutality of the Great War.

"You know as well as I do that if that were to be the case. The resulting global fallout would be enough to destroy any possibility of civilization of this scale." Ozpin replied, his eyes never leaving the Red Glare.

The Courier slumped his shoulders in defeat. Even the NCR with all its sharecropper farms could not possibly sustain a city of this magnitude. Cities of this scale were only present in the fleeting memory that was the Old World.

"So how do you know about Fallout and the Bombs?" Six asked.

"You're not the first visitor from "Earth" to arrive, Mr. Six. Although you are certainly just as dangerous." Ozpin said enigmatically.

"I guess my story begins in the middle of nowhere." Six said, as he began to recall his life back in the Mojave.

Hours upon hours passed as the Courier began to recount his story in New Vegas. Immediately he knew Ozpin was intrigued as the first part of his story left him left for dead and shot two times in the head in the middle of a graveyard. He told his tale of bloody vengeance as he left a trail of corpses behind him, culminating in a brutal gunfight against one of the members of the party that had attempted to kill him. He told him about the well-meaning but ultimately flawed New Californian Republic. How the mysterious Mr. House protected Vegas and turned it into a police state where the poor and destitute were walled away from the Strip to live in rotting houses that he could have fixed in the blink of an eye. Caesar's Legion and his talks with Caesar himself. Caesar was smart and in all his talks about the NCR repeating the past, he himself failed to realize that even the Roman Empire fell. And of how he could and still outsmarted them all using a robot which catered to his every whim.

Ozpin sat through everything. His heist in the toxic Sierra Madre all to retrieve the money of the dead. His meeting of two Honest Hearts in the valley of Zion and how he left a tribe to lose their innocence. The brains of the Big MT deserved a mention, their severe case of Old World Blues giving him the power over an advanced technological facility. And how all of this lead up to one battle, a battle in Hell on Earth. Where Nature, the Locals, and even the wind itself conspired to kill you. How Ulysses, the man who served as his antithesis was just a man he had left broken in a menagerie of regret, forgave him and resigned himself as the Warden of his past hope and the Courier's most bitter mistake.

Six could tell that the man was digesting every single word. But time would tell if he believed him. He left out some parts of his journey, now that he thought about it. His life now that he thought about it could have been the plot of a very awesome Holo-game.

* * *

 **A.N: Alright show's over folks.**


	8. Chapter 8: Welcome to Beacon

**A.N: Thanks for the lovely reviews guys! Leave some constructive criticism and stuff. Holy Hell was I super excited when watching Episode 2. Pilot is best guy.**

 **All Intellectual Properties in this fanfiction belong to their respective owners.**

* * *

 **Chapter 8: Welcome to Beacon**

* * *

The Courier gave Ozpin a nod of understanding as the man finished his explanation of the World of Remnant. Ozpin blankly stared at this borderline devilish being who just sat on the gurney. Frankly he looked almost bored at what Ozpin had told him. The revolver was holstered by his hip although Ozpin knew that Six was fast enough to take it out.

"You are taking the existence of souls and Aura much better than your northern counterpart." Ozpin commented.

The Courier gave a small chuckle as he replied, "I decided the fate of an entire region with the help of an alcoholic caravanner, a depressed sniper, the doctor son of a war criminal, a teenage girl who loves to punch stuff, a floating robot, a gargantuan grandma, and a 200-year-old zombie. Oh, and Rex, can't forget about Rex. The existence of a "soul" pales in comparison. Soul powered forcefields are cool and all. Besides what is a soul, to the wonders of SCIENCE!"

The Courier coughed awkwardly as he finished the last part. He realized that he may have needed the Think Tank or at least Mobius to find a much more credible understanding of this "Aura" and "Soul". No doubt that the people of this place had scientists but even the most professional researchers seemed like bumbling idiots in comparison to the group of disjointed abominations that had a seemingly endless pursuit for science.

Ozpin let out a small smile and said "You truly are a Wild Card Mr. Six. That said, I have an offer for you."

"Let me guess, an offer I can't refuse?" Six said, imitating his best Omerta accent he heard from a holo-movie. There was a fully functional theater by Vegas, running holo-movies produced in some of Vegas's studios.

It boggled his mind as to the number of Wasters who had thought there were only three casinos in Vegas. The three casinos were the main attractions but there were more venues than one could count. Bars, restaurants, brothels, cybernetic dogfighting, hotels, shops, porn studios, anything to keep people's minds away from the trouble brewing beyond its walls. And that was not mentioning Freeside and its venues.

Ozpin nodded and said "I would like you to work as a Huntsman. You would be an asset for all of Remnant. The work entails that you exterminate and eliminate the creatures of Grimm and on occasion, assist the Atlesian Military, protect the frontier towns, go on bounty hunts. You are expected to serve the four kingdoms, which will take you to the other continents and cities of Remnant."

"Are there any benefits to this? Do I get a Bon Vivant Suite? Do you have any incentive to trust me and what I'm saying?" The Courier asked back in classic Socrates method.

"You will receive free living quarters here in Beacon, all of your equipment will be returned to you and will not be confiscated by the Atlesian Military, and you will receive access to Top level Huntsman armorers and weapon shops. We will also forge a new name for you, one that follows the Color Naming Rule of Remnant. It's an unofficial official rule of the world. You may want to decide quickly, there is only so much sway I have left with the Council before they take matters into their own hands. And for your last question, well I suppose it's just a little leap of faith." Ozpin let loose a small smirk.

The Courier haplessly shrugged. His weapons. God, his Pip-Boy's destruction was a disaster that was on par if not surpassed Shakespeare's tragedies. He had nearly forgotten what it was like to live without it. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing was up for debate. Still he couldn't risk any of his weapons getting into the hands of a military, that if this Ozpin character was to be believed, had access to a level of industry that far surpassed all the NCR's.

If he left now, that would mean sleeping in alleyways, getting involved with the local gambling scene, joining a mercenary crew, making a name for himself until he would end up in the employ of a very rich client. But that left him no way back home. Sure, home was nothing, but a dusty hellhole colonized by a reforming bureaucracy which remained unknowingly hostage by an army of robots led by Six, but it was still home.

This Ozpin character had him right in the palm of his hands. But luckily Six was adaptable. He wasn't the Courier that broke the bank for nothing.

"Deal. Although I have a certain list of conditions before I do work for you." The Courier said. Ozpin nodded and the Courier had to hide a creeping grin.

Ozpin gave a nod and the Courier brought up a finger. "I want access to all types of Cybernetic shops. Doesn't matter, Civilian, Military, Animals. You seem to have some pull."

Ozpin also nodded at that. It wasn't uncommon for huntsmen to worry about their limbs and lives, cybernetics were sold mainly by Atlas but with a few developing companies in Vale and Mistral. The profession demanded that kind of paranoia. Although animals were uncommon victims of Grimm, some animals still had their uses, they gave people hope, a very valuable deterrent against Grimm. Some animals such as dogs found uses as huntsmen partners, K-9 units, and rescue dogs. But why in Oum's name did he want limbs for animals?

What was going on in the Courier's mind however was along the lines of 'Usunagi, you better have the caps for a shitload of cybernetics.'

A second finger was raised, and Ozpin widened his eyebrows imperceptibly as the Courier said, "I want to be informed if any way back to my homeworld."

"Granted, although might I inquire as to why you would want to go back there? From what you told me it would be a foolish and borderline suicidal decision." Ozpin asked.

"Well. Home is home." Even if it was a barren dustbowl colonized by an army which was unknowingly held hostage in gunpoint by an army of Securitrons and Old-World Super Weapons capable of wiping the entire slate clean.

"Will that be all, Mr. Six?" Ozpin asked.

The Courier was silent for a moment until Ozpin heard a very loud cackle.

"I also want a workshop and a reloading bench installed in my quarters here at this academy. I'll send you the schematics later." The Courier said as he raised a third finger.

Ozpin dreaded the last request.

"I want the best booze in all of Remnant steadily supplied to me by this academy. No fuss, no ruckus." The Courier said, his shit-eating grin although not visible, was clearly implied by his voice. The fourth finger almost mocking Ozpin.

Ozpin warily nodded. He had a feeling that he might regret this later. There was a distinct feeling that this man might give even Qrow a run for his money. The Courier gave Ozpin an innocent nod and stretched out his hand. The headmaster bemusedly shook it, half-expecting it to be laced with some deadly skin poison.

"This is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship. Partner." The Courier drawled out. Spending some time with the King of Swing, Dead Domino himself, had that effect on people.

Ozpin shook his hand and said"I will escort you to your new living quarters. I have ordered all your weapons to be transported there. As I need to file in a lot of paperwork for you to get your hunter's license, I suggest that you spend some time here in Beacon. You do need to learn about the various cultures of tribes and kingdoms, history, science, various weaponry of a completely new planet. Do you have some formal education Mr. Six?"

The Courier gave a slow nod. "Last time I went to high school, I ended up being chased by a really big dog, pumped full of drugs and an explosive reactor timed with an imprecise countdown." The Courier said solemnly.

Ozpin couldn't mask his surprise at that blatant statement before the Courier gave a hearty chuckle and said "Does extensive training among the Wasteland's most badass special forces count? Heh. I also had an education among the Followers of the Apocalypse and the Brotherhood of Steel, let's just say they're some of the smartest folks out west."

Frankly Ozpin had no idea who those people were but gestured for the Courier to stand up and together they left the room. Only for both to be greeted with the very large frown of one of Vale's most esteemed hunters, Glynda Goodwitch. Her emerald eyes did not even flinch when she gazed into the deep red mist of the Riot's glare.

"Will you please take that helmet off, Mr. Six?" Her voice was stern and straight to the point. It led the Courier to do exactly as she told him to. He clipped the helmet at his belt. It was obvious she was smart enough to eavesdrop.

They were surprised at the youthful face that greeted them. The guy barely looked older than a day over the age of 22.

"Let me guess. I'm younger than you thought I would be." The Courier said with what seemed to be a slight grimace.

Ozpin paled as he realized that the brutality caused at the forest was caused by someone little more than a graduate in Beacon. Coupled with his stories of the Wastes. This one was not to be taken lightly.

The two adults said nothing as they escorted Six to his room, the trio attracted more than their share of whispers and stares from the students. Through the walk, Six couldn't help but look amazed at the halls and crowds. It unnerved him to a certain degree, he had gotten so used to the harsh conditions of the wastes. Decay was hardly visible, and it was cleaner than the Ultra-Lux.

They passed by a very beautiful garden before ending up in the dormitories. The scarily attractive lady gave Six a few keys as they stopped by an oak door. He gave them a grateful nod and murmured a 'thank you' as they left. The room made him feel like a very important guest. Fresh linen sheets were on the bed. Pillows were clearly visible. There was a bathroom with what seemed to be fresh water, it even had a functional shower! Freshly polished cabinets and drawers were in place compared to the rotting wood in plenty of post-war houses.

They had taken the trouble to neatly fold his clothes and placed them by his bed. He had only brought his Duster, Benny's Suit, a few breathing masks, and the Stealth Suit MK. II, and ahem, some naughty nightwear.

His Anti-Material Rifle was leaning neatly by his bed. His standard weapon kit involved a few backup weapons such as the generic weapons he looted. His Katana was also sheathed and laid out near his clothes along with his Survivalist's Rifle. His Sequoia, and a Light Shining at Darkness, and Medicine Stick were laid near a desk where Blood-Nap sat atop. His Fist of the North Rawr with its very sharp claws sat imposingly by the corner. Ammo boxes were piled up near the bathroom. Elijah's Holorifle was also in his bed. Red Glare was there too. All in all, his weapon set was ready.

He realized with a slight trepidation as he groaned, "I actually have to change clothes manually? God damn it." But a quick shower after that changed his mind. It was a nice change of pace now that he thought about it. The Mojave tugged at him from all corners. If the Think Tank didn't have problems like say a Deathclaw pumped full of psycho and spliced with Cazadore DNA, then it was the 80's tribe encroaching Zion, if it wasn't them then it was the good old Legion, and if not that then the Tunneler population needed to be culled. This was just some nice calming mercenary work.

The Lucky 38 barely registered home. His companions gave him the sense of home, it was as Ulysses said, home just wasn't a place, it could also be a feeling. After the shower he cleaned up the room, and got dressed into his Naughty Nightwear, and with a tiredness that he didn't know he was holding, let darkness embraced him when he laid on his bed.

When he woke up to see that he was in the same room, he for once in his life didn't know what to do. Yawning and stretching, he took another nice shower and drank something called a "Mouthwash". He easily slid into his Elite Riot Gear and holstered his Anti-Mat Rifle also known as a "PGM Hecate II". Hanging out with Boone and the NCR Vets, among various gun nuts tended to extend one's knowledge among topics such as these. Blood Nap was holstered by his leg, The Katana of the West was holstered by his side, and his Ranger Sequoia, was also holstered at his hip.

He freshened up and heard a knock on the door.

"Probably Ozpin or Goodwitch." Six muttered as he clasped on his helmet.

To his credit, he was right. Ozpin had his trademark cane ready, but this time a coffee mug was visible in his hand.

"Ah Mr. Six. I see you are ready for your initiation." Ozpin greeted him while he sipped his mug.

"Initiation?" The Courier tilted his head.

"Yes. We can skip the initiation as your brief encounter with Ms. Branwen was more than enough to secure a spot for you here. Although your weapons will certainly dissuade any student from thinking of you as weak." Ozpin replied simply while drinking from his mug.

"I thought I would skip being a student and get right on the action." Six said while cocking his head in puzzlement.

"Well yes and no. While you may already receive your Huntsman license, you still need to educate yourself in topics of this world." Ozpin explained.

"Well, thanks for taking in a Naïve Young Courier from Goodsprings with death on his eyes and a big ass rifle on his hands." The Courier replied while Ozpin gestured him to follow him while shaking his head.

* * *

The mumbles of the auditorium were growing louder in intensity. Jaune Arc stood with his partner, the almost untouchable goddess of combat known as Pyrrha Nikos. She stood with him clad in her personal armor fashioned by the blacksmiths of Mistral, she looked at him longingly; obvious affection in her emerald eyes, one which Jaune naïvely did not recognize. Her fiery red hair was curled into a ponytail.

The remainder of team JNPR stood with him. The ever calm and collected Lie Ren dressed in his green tailcoat, he had long black hair tied into a ponytail that ended midway down his back, there was a streak of pink on the left side of his hair. His magenta eyes revealed a twinkle of amusement despite his stoic poker face.

In contrast to the calm poker face of Ren, a very bubbly Nora Valkyrie stood by him chatting his ear away about "taming Ursas with pancakes". Her orange hair was waving freely around, her and turquoise eyes paid no mind to the onlookers. She wore a collared black vest that ended at her waist and a white shirt that had a heart-shaped hole around her cleavage area.

Beside them was Team RWBY. Led by the titular Ruby Rose, a fair skinned young girl with silver eyes and black, neck-length, choppy hair that red tips, who was shooting off rapid fire suggestions as to why Professor Ozpin had called them there. She wore a long sleeved thick black blouse with a high collar and red trim on the sleeves, a black waist cincher with red lacing up the front, and a black skirt with red trim. She also wears a pair of thick black stockings and black combat boots with red laces, red trim around the top and red soles.

Weiss Schnee, a pale skinned young girl with pale blue eyes and long white hair pulled back into an off-center bun tail and pinned with an icicle shaped tiara. A scar was visible on her eye, but it did nothing to retract her beauty. Frowned disapprovingly at the younger girl as more than a fair share of eyes stared at them. She wore a thigh-length strapless dress with a faint color gradation from white to pale blue at the hem

Yang Xiao Long, the blonde brawler with a heart of gold and a penchant for destruction with a dash of hair obsession towards her hair; gave her sister an affectionate smile as her theories ranged from the plausible to the whimsical. She wore a tan jacket that showed her lower stomach, with golden brown piping and short, puffy sleeves with black cuffs that feature two gold buttons. Her iconic weapons, Ember Celica were nowhere to be seen. They were left behind in the locker area.

Her partner, Blake Belladona, a fair skinned young girl with amber eyes and long black hair, the mysterious ninja of the group, merely shut the team out as her nose buried itself on her book, but there was some semblance of a smile in there. She wore a black buttoned vest with coattails and a single silver button on the front. Underneath the coat was a white, sleeveless, high necked, crop undershirt and white shorts with a zipper on the front of each leg.

The chatter was cut short as the deputy huntress, Glynda Goodwitch appeared on stage.

"All of you have been gathered here to witness the initiation of a new student. The team which will be chosen by our new initiate will be given a special task."

Murmurs quickly ensued after that. Beacon Academy, the world's prestigious academy was making a special case for a student? How powerful was he? No number of bribes could change Ozpin's mind, Weiss herself knew it as her Father smugly kept reminding her of that fact. Winter even gave her a stern warning not to rely on money in Beacon.

"What do you think the new student's like? Maybe he could be my new friend!" Ruby excitedly whispered to her team.

Before Weiss could retort, the entire venue became deathly quiet as Professor Ozpin came into view. He was followed by a man dressed in some rather intimidating armor, equipped with a strange array of weapons.

"Woah." Ruby breathed out. She as well as the rest of the team, except for Blake and Pyrrha, failed to notice Jaune's once normal face twist into a mixture of surprise, disgust, and fear.

"Mr. Six. You have recently finished your initiation ceremony at the Emerald Forest. Due to your... Unique circumstances. I have decided to allow you to pick your choice of a relic. You will have to choose from the colors, black or white, and name what chess piece you desire." Ozpin said.

The Courier's mind swelled with the possibilities. He knew Ozpin was an intellectual type, so whatever he chose would have a symbolic meaning and would cause the headmaster to formulate his own opinions.

The Pawn, it was a humble piece. Devoted to serving the king, yet vastly overshadowed by the more powerful pieces. But it served as a reminder that even the weakest can turn into the strongest. It was predictable, only moving forward, never considering the other parts of the equation. It was loyal to a fault though. So, he immediately decided against it.

The Knight, highly unpredictable. It moved in a fucking L for god's sake, and that appealed to him. Two slugs to the head and he ended up in Vegas, who the hell could have predicted that, discounting House of course. But he had read enough pre-war books and watched enough movies to know what a "Knight in Shining Armor" was. There was no good or evil in the wastes. Only shades of grey. Justice was merely where the lighter shade of gray was.

The Rook, always moving in one direction. Driven. Yet they fail to see the unpredictable. Six despised that. General Oliver came to mind as a prominent example of this piece. Bishops were a strange sort, moving where the wind took them, almost like Divine Intervention. He left those things to men like Graham and Daniel.

The Queen. It was the most powerful piece in the board. Capable of decimating plentiful pieces. It was a valuable piece, especially if utilized correctly. He was half-tempted to pick it. It alone could decide the fate of the entire match. Heh. The Platinum Chip was a clear-cut example. Sure, you could take it out from the equation and cause all around misery. But with the right brains and luck you could put the odds in your favor.

King was a seemingly borderline useless piece, yet it was very important in the grand scheme of things. Almost like House. He didn't view himself like that. Take him out, the Wastes will move on.

The Courier sighed and said, "White Knight." Raul would have a field day with this.

* * *

"So you're saying that you left our employer on a potentially hostile alien world with an unknown and potentially hostile alien biosphere with no information and equipment suitable for interstellar space travel except for a faulty prototype?" Veronica asked as she paced around in front of the Think Tank.

"Careful Veronica! The floor is made of a highly valuable Titanium-Aluminum alloy and although your human feet may not provide enough necessary friction to provide enough Thermal Energy to start a small fire, you've been circling around for approximately six minutes. And when you put it like that then yes. That's precisely what we did" Dr. 8 said before giving a self-decrepitating chuckle.

Veronica's eye twitched.

"COME NOW MY DEAR MONTE CRISTO. THE LOBOT- SIX KNEW THE DETAILS WHEN HE ACCEPTED THE ASSIGNMENT. SURE, WE OMMITED MOST IF NOT ALL OF THE NECESSARY INFORMATION AND GAVE HIM ONLY THE BARE MINIMUM OF FACTS BUT… WHERE WAS I GOING WITH THAT?" There was a pregnant pause around the Think Tank as Veronica gave Klein a smoldering glare as she mouthed "Santangelo".

"RELAX SAINT ANGELO. WE, THE MIGHTY THINK TANK, WILL RETRIEVE THE HIGHLY VALUABLE CADAVER I MEAN WASTELANDER WHO IS OUR CURRENT RUNNING EXECUTIVE AND BRING HIM BACK ALIVE. HOPEFULLY. THAT AND RETRIEVE SOME OF THE GREATEST CYBERNETIC IMPLANTS THIS FACILITY HAS EVER SEEN!" Klein shouted bombastically.

"Of course, we will! I certainly don't want anything tragic happening to my sweet Ursus americanus. Those dead cells that bear the color of the dark matter and nothingness of space that he calls hair. The way his skinvelope wraps around his fleshy and tender muscles, complete with anatomically miniature sweat pores taking away those salty wastes and regulating his body temperature to optimum capacity. Hmm. The very prospect of us missing our sessions together is quite worrisome." Dala butted in.

Veronica quietly screamed inside her mind as the rest of the Think Tank acted as if all was well. Six, in all of his brilliance and greatness, decided to appoint her as chief human supervisor of the Think Tank a few weeks back. The Brains were of course initially mistrustful, but mistrust gave way to curiosity which in turn morphed into begrudging respect as they realized Veronica was an absolute wizard of technology. But it didn't do anything to mitigate their absurd behavior.

"Perhaps we should organize a team to look for him!" Borous said. Veronica stared dumbfounded at him. That was the sanest thing she had ever heard that had come from his mouth. "I propose we splice together the DNA of Man's Loyal Best Friend, The Dog. We must combine this humble creature's DNA with that of the America's most fierce predator. The mighty Deathclaw! By splicing together these two, its destructive tendencies will be held back by its innate loyalty to man and any hostile that tries to harm Six will be reduced to minced meat." Her hopes were as dashed as quickly as a Gomorrah whore's virginity.

"WELL THAT SETTLES IT. HERE. CONFER WITH YOUR COLLEAGUES AS WE WILL REPLICATE THE EXPERIMENT. AS MUCH AS I AM HORRIFIED TO SAY THIS, SIX DID SHOW US OUR HUMANITY." Klein said almost muting the last part, as he handed over a pile of documents towards Veronica

She carried the documents while dejectedly made her way towards the intercom speaker by the walls.

"For the last time Dr. Mobius. No, you are not an omnipotent sky god nor a robotic reincarnation of Groknak the Barbarian." An exasperated voice said through the intercom.

"Well nice to hear from you too Arcade."

There was a brief pause before the sound of a crazed laugh followed by an explosion came through. Arcade coughed before proceeding back into the intercom.

"Ah Veronica, nice to hear from you after so long. Sorry about that, Dr. Mobius was doing something "forbidden" here at Y-0. The fruits of my labor have finally come into fruition. With the help of Dr. Mobius and a few of the other Followers we've managed to create a close alternative to Stimpaks in the form of a synthesized chemical from the extracts of Barrel Cacti and Broc Flowers although Mobius is having a bit too much fun with Party Time Psycho. I have to admit Six's idea of getting a few Followers here was really a great move. Although I'm pretty sure you're not just calling to make conversation." Arcade said.

Veronica and he were among the first human researches in Big Mountain for quite a while. NCR forces rolled in around the Mojave, which left Arcade in a rather strange position. Thankfully Six had the foresight to know that the NCR would trace the backgrounds of most of the Follower's in the Old Mormon Fort as it was common knowledge that the Followers accepted the Enclave Remnants and actively hid them from the NCR's gaze. That was one of the reasons they were deemed anarchists.

"Yeah… You see there's a huge problem around here at the Think Tank. I'm not talking about "Radroaches trapped with my mom" kind. More like "Flying Deathclaws" kind of trouble." Veronica chuckled.

Veronica heard an audible sigh and she swore that she could imagine Arcade the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"It's Six isn't it." Was all Arcade said.

"Yes. The Think Tank may have transported him into a hostile unknown alien planet. That or he's unlucky enough to have been currently converted into a state of energy never to regain consciousness again as a biological organism." Veronica chirped out.

"I don't think we have to worry about that last part. We're talking about a guy who's gotten banned from at least every casino in the Strip in less than a week. I may not believe in luck but Six is really pushing that belief. So, what now?" Arcade muttered.

Veronica kept quiet for a bit as her eyes widened at the documents that Klein had given her.

"HOLY SHIT. We need to gather a team now." Veronica excitedly said.

"Why? What's this about?" Arcade asked.

"Six may have stumbled upon an exact copy of the Old World. Minus the radiation, war, political intrigue, and unethical experiments. Hopefully. I'll send the data through the Intermail system. Emily sure made passing data around easier. T-Mail really is useful." Veronica squealed.

"You won't hear any disagreements from me. Who did you have in mind for this trip of yours?" Arcade asked.

Veronica laughed freely and said, "Get ready for one last adventure Arcade because our dysfunctional little crew's going to the Old World."

"I've said this to Six's face once and I'll say it to yours too, nihil novi sub sole." Arcade quipped although Veronica knew there was probably a smile inside the blonde doctor's face.

* * *

The whole amphitheater was silent. Many thoughts were running wild and hushed whispers asked among themselves. Was this new stranger going to serve as a new teammate for two teams? How would that work for the Vytal Festival? Schoolwork? Even hunting assignments might get easier for Team RWBY and Team JNPR. Why was Team JNPR even selected in the first place?. Before resentment could start to boil, a sharp ring from the stage's speakers cut everyone off.

"If all of you are done bickering among yourselves, allow me to make one thing clear. Mr. Obsidian will not serve as a teammate for Team RWBY and Team JNPR. Beacon provides equal opportunity for all." Professor Ozpin cut in.

The audience became quiet and the members of Team RWBY and Team JNPR let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Now, we apologize for this disturbance. Everyone except for Team RWBY and Team JNPR must vacate the theater, please do so now."

The crowd dispersed and two very confused teams stood in front of Ozpin, Six, and Professor Goodwitch.

"Mr. Obsidian? Really?" The Courier grumbled as Ozpin, Goodwitch, and he went towards the two teams. The headmaster said nothing and threw him a smug look. The trio went down from the stage and towards the two teams.

Jaune kept a wide berth from the Courier, as he hid behind his team, which went generally unnoticed. Ruby however made no attempt to hide her curiosity as she immediately burst into rose petals as she immediately tried to inspect the Courier's exposed weapons. Her attempt however was immediately halted by Goodwitch's glare.

"Allow me to get into the topic at hand. Ms. Rose and Mr. Arc. Your teams were chosen due to Mr. Obsidian's… Unique Circumstances. Your teams have proven to be quite capable in your display at the Emerald Forest. Your duties will merely entail in serving as a quasi-teammate for Mr. Obsidian, yet make no mistake, Mr. Obsidian is a full-fledged huntsman, who will be in charge of accompanying you in combat assignments, and will grade your performance. Although we have faith that Mr. Obsidian will be impartial in his assessments, we will nonetheless place necessary procedures to ensure a lack of manipulation. Any questions?"

A dainty hand shot up and it was Ruby, who asked "What do you mean by Quasi-Teammate, Professor?"

"It's simple really. Barring combat practice and sparring aside, Mr. Obsidian will follow the same school schedules assigned to both Team JNPR and Team RWBY." Ozpin took a sip from his mug.

"If Mr. Obsidian's a huntsman why is he going to attend Beacon?" Asked Pyrrha, obliviously addressing the elephant in the room.

"Like I said, Mr. Obsidian has… Unique circumstances. He was subject to a medical procedure constructed jointly by the Kingdom of Vale and Atlas. It involved the use of Freezing Dust to create an experimental cryogenic stasis pod for victims with serious afflictions to discover a cure in the future. Something must have gone wrong as Mr. Obsidian spent a great number of years trapped inside a cryogenic pod. As you will find, he is going to require your help in adjusting to this new culture. By getting two teams to help him through this, we hope that he can find new friendships amidst the plenty he had lost."

Ruby threw the Courier to most sympathetic he had ever seen. She looked like a wounded puppy whose heart was figuratively broken by its owner and it very nearly broke the Wanderer's heart. The others all threw him looks of great sadness, all except for Jaune who threw him an even greater suspicious look. The Courier had to admit that Cryogenic Stasis was a good way to explain his lack of knowledge. Barging in and saying "He's from another world. Keep quiet about that." would be no doubt a bold yet stupid move. A man like Ozpin was bound to have enemies, and these enemies would likely have spies around the campus.

When it became apparent that there were no further questions, the meeting was concluded with a curt "Goodbye" from the headmaster and advice to introduce each other.

There was awkward silence after the headmaster and his intimidating assistant had left. Six coughed and said "Hello, the name's… Maxon. Maxon Obsidian." Hopefully Veronica wouldn't find out about this or she'd die of laughter.

"Nice to meet you Maxon. The name's Ruby. Ruby Rose. Do you mind if you can tell me about your weapons?" The young girl dressed in an attire rather fitting for her name said in an excited tone.

"Woah Ruby. He still needs to meet the rest of the gang." The Blonde with the great chest said as she put Ruby in a headlock and started ruffling her hair. "My name's Yang. Yang Xiao Long, sister to this adorkable pipsqueak." She concluded as Ruby whined.

The Courier almost did a double-take, the two barely looked anything alike. Even through the helmet his posture must have showed his confusion as Yang laughed and said, "It's a long story but to sum it up, same dad, different moms."

The girl with the bow went closer and Six swore that he saw the two cat-ear things on her head twitch, she held a book on her hands and promptly closed it as she said, "Blake Belladonna, a pleasure to make your acquaintance." She finished her introduction as quickly as possible as she went quiet.

"Weiss Schnee, I would like to say it was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Maxon. Although I must ask what's underneath that helmet, it's important to know the face of someone you can trust." Weiss bit out, the Courier had to hand out props despite the sob story she was still all business. Ruby shot her an indignant look.

Six easily playing along said "Ah, my apologies Ms. Schnee. I must have forgotten to remove the helmet before proceeding towards this initiation. I profusely apologize for the discomfort and distress my attire must have given you." He finished off his grandiose apology by removing the helmet and shooting Weiss an apologetic smile. You don't simply navigate Vegas's elite by acting like a country bumpkin.

Weiss's face flustered. Everyone took a good look at the Courier's face and was immediately shocked. The moment the guy took off his helmet was the moment he stopped looking like some Atlesian Robot Specialist and more like a man straight out of those Vacuo cowboy flicks. It was very jarring to say the least. Yet none could deny that the guy had a certain rogue-like charm plastered all over him. Yang made no effort to hide her eyes roving on his jawline.

"Well, now that team RWBY's done I suppose that it's our turn to introduce ourselves. I am Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos. It would be a pleasure to become friends with you Maxon." Pyrrha smiled, no doubt happy that she had finally discovered someone else other than Jaune that barely knew anything about her.

"Nora!" Shouted Nora Valkyrie as she suddenly gave the Courier the most back-breaking hug he had ever experienced. He resisted the urge to plant Blood Nap into this kid's back. "Don't worry Maxon, that bad experience of yours will be a thing of the past."

Seeing his opportunity, the Courier threw a sad façade and said "Yeah. I hope so." It had the desired effect as the room became quiet, yet the Nora girl intensified her hug.

Thankfully he was saved by another kid who put a calming hand onto Nora's shoulder as she gently released him from that horrible experience.

"Lie Ren. I understand, sometimes we have experiences that we wish to overcome." He said in a rather calm and collected manner.

"Jaune? Aren't you going to introduce yourself?" Asked Pyrrha as she nudged Jaune's arm. Jaune's face remained stoic before he sighed and gave the others a weak smile.

"Ah. No need, we've already met. Right Jaune?" Six said as his eyes almost narrowed dangerously. This blonde kid might end up blowing his whole cover. Why didn't Ozpin think of this?

"Right… He saved my life at the Emerald Forest." Jaune said as his eyes narrowed too.

Another awkward pause before Ruby cut in saying "If you don't mind, I'll take Six out to the firing range. I can't wait to see what his weapons could do." And so the little red grabbed the Courier's Kevlar gloves and dashed away leaving behind two amused teams, and a very concerned knight.

* * *

(A few hours after Initiation)

"Good Morning, citizens of Vale. This is Lisa Lavender reporting and you're listening to the Vale News Network. For our headlines, reports of Grimm activity around the City have dropped considerably. Perhaps due to the renewed efforts of Professor Leonardo Lionheart in intensifying Hunter culling contracts. For our next headline: several settlements around Anima have declared independence. Specifically these settlements include Shion, Higanbana, among others. Details are sketchy now, but it appears that a growing number of frontier towns have publicly denounced and rejected Huntsman and Kingdom support, even going so far as to declare themselves independent and declared that they were under the protection of the "Minutemen". Who or what these "Minutemen" are is as of late unknown. The Council has so far not issued an official statement regarding the matter, but Huntsmen interviewed claim that this will be short-lived. Time will tell if this will be the rise of a new kingdom, or a tragedy in the making. This is Lisa Lavender reporting."

With an audible fizz the television closed as Professor Ozpin laid down the remote by his desk. He rubbed his eyes in frustration. Losing the support of many frontier towns would no doubt put a strain on Lionheart's reputation and may lead to his status as Professor being diminished. He could not afford to lose another ally in this time.

He reached for his scroll and was surprised to see a message from Qrow.

'New players. Allegiance: Possible Allies.' Were the only words present in Branwen's report. But it was good enough for Ozpin.

He took a sip from his mug and was confronted by the sight of Glynda's normally angry face marred with an expression of disbelief.

"Ozpin. You have done some ridiculous ventures throughout the years but letting Team RWBY and Team JNPR to serve as this man's handlers. Have you gone mad!?" Glynda nearly shouted.

The Headmaster took a long sip of his coffee before saying "Team JNPR has Ms. Nikos, the other students are no slouches either. Even Mr. Arc is showing signs of vast improvement. As for Team RWBY, they have all proven to be quite capable and are much capable of this task than Team CRDL or any team for that matter. Granted Mr. Six can be a bit… Unstable. But this is a necessary precaution." He was immediately silenced as Goodwitch slammed her hand into his desk.

"You full well know what he's capable of. He wiped out several White Fang patrols without breaking a sweat. And you left Mr. Arc without any hint of information about that 'Courier'. Who knows what that man would do?"

"This will serve as a test of sorts for both parties. Six has already proven himself capable in speech challenges, I am merely allowing Mr. Arc to swallow the fact that sometimes not all sides are Black and White." Ozpin sipped his mug again.

"I cannot believe this. Not only is James using a monster but you too? I expected this level of desperation from him but you, Ozpin? You've read the data we recovered from his 'Pip-Boy', he's a monster that justifies his brutality under the guise of morals and the 'greater good'. We know for a fact that his kill count can't possibly be fabricated, those 'Pip-Boys' have built-in Biometric Scanners that documents each of those kills, so don't attempt to lie to me." Glynda said.

"I cannot in good conscience sacrifice Team RWBY alone to the Courier's mercy but to ease your worries this arrangement merely applies in Beacon. There's a reason why I deliberately did not give him Aura, it serves as extra protection for us at least. Outside he will be watched by a multitude of our allies. Had he chosen another piece I would have merely done the same decision. What would you have James and I do? Leave these people to potentially join the enemy? Even if they are monsters by our standards, the help they can provide against Her can be numerous." Ozpin shot back.

There was a brief terse silence before Professor Goodwitch dejectedly said "I hope you two know what you're doing."

Ozpin threw her a grateful smile and together they left his Clockwork Tower.

* * *

The Courier wasn't the type to use shooting ranges. What good was working on your aim against a static object when real combat was more chaotic and archaic than the comfort of a Brotherhood Bunker or an NCR shooting gallery. Legionnaires and the scum of the wastes wouldn't sit down and allow you to shoot a Tesla Cannon right on their ass. Hell, Cazadores and Deathclaws sometimes were basically death on Turbo. But this shooting range had it all.

There were holographic HUDs directly above the berm. They detailed shooter's skill and accuracy. The shooters would shoot at holographic opponents which requires using something called a "scroll". Choices ranged from weak creatures such as those Werewolves which he found out were called "Beowolves" that one shot would be enough to kill them. Or the "Ursa" those Yao Guia like creatures. It was essentially a hierarchal process. Ruby and he were making a makeshift competition. And although the Courier was essentially winning by a huge margin, it wasn't exactly fair since he was a grown-ass man with years of wasteland experience. But he had to admit the kid was a better shot than some of the 1st Recon Folks. Although none could come close to Craig, this kid if trained and honed correctly would undoubtedly reach his level.

He pulled the trigger on his Medicine Stick and watched with satisfaction as the metallic-looking holographic Beowolf's head was blown apart completely, and some kid with a red cape was watching as if he was a Wasteland badass, which he was, he decided that he did like shooting ranges. After Ruby had yanked him away from the two teams, they had spent hours talking about their respective weapons. The Courier himself was impressed at Ruby's very own Crescent Rose. The Scythe/High-powered Sniper Rifle hybrid was impressive to say the least.

"That. Was. Awesome!" Ruby shouted. She was bright and a little bit cute. Hell, she reminded him of Veronica in more ways than one. But the difference was that Veronica was a raging lesbian that shamelessly flirted with Christine and Cass daily while capable of chatting about pre-war technologies with Arcade for hours on end. This kid looked like she thought the prospect of dating was some abstract dream far away.

He felt that all too familiar feeling of guilt ebb away on his mind. Why ever did he lie to her.

"You know. I've lost people too." Ruby said, her smile turned from enthusiastic to melancholic. She reached out and touched the Courier's shoulder. "But we have to move on, it'd be unfair for them if we just give up and surrendered. Sometimes the memories you have with them is all you really need to get true."

'No don't you dare crack you bastard.' The rational asshole known as his brain said.

The Courier closed his eyes and ruffled Ruby's hair as she let loose a wide grin. He ignored the damning cries of the dead that rang inside his ears; and the sight of the sweet visage of a woman's smile which burned away to reveal the flag of a crimson field and a golden bull.


End file.
